Another Story
by Aeryn Alexander
Summary: Sequel to "Another World". Two weeks after the adventure in the demon realm, three couples must face the greatest challenge and threat any of them have ever known: the war against Voldemort. Will they all come out of this alive? HG/SS, GW/RL, MM/AD
1. In which the story begins

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and all who reside therein belong to the woman whose name is on the side of the books: J.K. Rowling. And certainly not to me.  
Title: Another Story  
Author: Aeryn Alexander  
Summary (the better one): Sequel to "Another World". Two weeks have passed since Hermione, Severus, Ginny, and Remus have returned from the demon realm. Love is beginning to blossom for them, and for the headmaster and deputy headmistress, but all is not right with the world. Voldemort is gathering his forces. Severus is honor-bound to spy on his former master. But his disloyalty is not what may cost him his life. Hermione is worried about the man she has come to love. And Ginny and Remus? Well, the werewolf has a lot on his mind. And the war IS coming, and very soon. When its all over, who will be left standing?  
Rating: PG-13 (moderate violence, mild language, light to moderate romance, some sex-related dialog and humor, some abuse, and angst)  
Genre: General/drama/romance/angst/action  
Year: 7th for Hermione/ 6th for Ginny  
Author's Note: I never intended to write a sequel, but here it is, picking up where "Another World" left off. I am making every attempt to keep the author's notes to a minimum. The chapters of this story should be longer, and I will continue to attempt to update in a regular fashion. This story is at least twice as dark as its predecessor. But this kind of story has to be dark. Of course, I'm working some fluff into it too (so I don't scare anyone). The perspective tends to meander, but I think in a better way than in the first story. _Italics_ are used rather liberally for emphasis, for letters, and for some memories. I'm also in the process of removing 'hard stops' from my dialog. If for some reason this does not all get posted by June 21st, I am declaring it canon-consistent only through GoF without the intent to restructure the plot to comply with OotP. I always appreciate feedback. Thank you!  
Dedication: To all the reviewers of "Another World", especially those who requested a sequel and/or gave me ideas concerning what should go in it.  
  


* * *

  
Another Story  
  
  
Doch das ist eine andere Geschichte und soll ein andermal erzählt werden.  
  
- Michael Ende, _Die unendlich Geschichte_  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
In which the story begins  
  
  
If anyone had told Hermione Granger two weeks earlier that she would be using Professor McGonagall's floo to travel to the dungeons, to the private chambers of one Severus Snape, she would have called them stark raving mad, and with some justification. But there she was, granules of greenish gray floo powder in her hand, ready to make the journey through castle floo system that connect the professors' rooms and offices.  
  
Hermione glanced at Minerva in one of the high-backed chairs by the fireside, where the older woman sat reading, and smiled. She had admonished Hermione rather gently about the time, which was half past nine in the evening, before going back to her book. It was a transfigurations' text for next term's third year students, which Hermione would be helping her teach as an assistant. And the thought made Hermione positively beam. She would be teaching at Hogwarts! It was a dream come true for her.  
  
Hermione had not had very much to smile about over the last few days. Severus had been called twice to his _meetings_ since the end of their sojourn in the demon realm. She would never have guessed that such a simple word could cause so much anxiety, worry, and unhappiness. But there it was.   
  
Both times he had returned weary and reticent to allow her near him. She was well-versed enough in Defense Against the Dark Arts and could see that the Cruciatus curse had been applied rather liberally. She said very little about it. He would not want her to fuss over him. She only made him some tea and prepared a hot bath for him before returning to her dormitory. Hermione could see it in his eyes as he kissed her good-night. Severus was grateful.  
  
Snape had told her just that morning that he planned to back in his quarters before ten o'clock. Voldemort had indicated to him that the meetings would be brief, though certainly not painless, until he felt that it was time to coordinate another assault on Hogwarts. Severus was waiting for that day, hoping that he could give more sufficient warning to Dumbledore this time and hoping even more fervently that there would be no loss of life during this battle. It was a fool's hope, and he knew it. And it would cheat him. He was certain of that.  
  
Hermione shook her head absently and said, "Snape's rooms."   
  
In a moment, she found herself in the heart of Slytherindom and the parlor of the man she loved. There was an interesting dichotomy there for the young Gryffindor.  
  
The room was cold, she noted, as she brushed small traces of soot from her robes. Both professors kept their floos impeccably clean possibly because they were used so often. Or rather the house elves probably did it for them. Hermione pondered asking Severus if that was the case.  
  
Looking around, Hermione felt her smile falter. He had yet to return from his errand. It was still early. But it did not make her feel any better about it. The idea of Severus among all of those unreformed Death Eaters, all of those callous torturers and murderers, scared her and made her quite ill, though she had never told Severus so. She had been with him during the summons once just days earlier. He had stiffened at first when she tried to hold him against the pain that emanated from the Dark Mark. Then he had allowed it as he suffered in silence, clutching his left forearm and waiting for it to end. Then he had simply gone.  
  
Hermione shivered and seated herself on the couch. She preferred to wait for him there. She imagined that he preferred it as well, not exactly relishing the idea of a Gryffindor rummaging about in his chambers during his absence. He was a very private person. Hermione felt quite certain nonetheless that they felt the same way about each other, though he was not over vocal about his feelings, perhaps at least in part due to spending years as a spy and the current danger. Of course, their relationship was still all so new to both of them. It was new to other people too.  
  
The past week or so had been quite difficult for Hermione. Keeping their relationship a secret was not as easy as she had imagined. Snape was still beastly to her in potions' class, although perhaps his animosity toward students in general was muted, dulled by the experience that he had shared with two young Gryffindors and their lycanthropic Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. But much worse than that, Harry and Ron, the latter of whom had ceased to speak to her several days ago, had not quite understood what had happened.  
  
Harry was patient and simply ignored the issue to the best of his ability. For her part Hermione was content with that. But not Ronald Weasley, not by any means! Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration as she relived their last conversation on the matter of her love life.  
  
"You _can't_ be serious!" Ron had groaned after she had confessed to Harry and to him that she was indeed in love with Snape. Harry had not been surprised, only resigned and perhaps a little uncomfortable. "You just _can't_ be!" Ron repeated.  
  
"I am, Ron," she had whispered. "And I hope you respect me enough to trust my judgment and my decision," she added more fiercely.  
  
"But he's ... he's _Snape_! He's greasy and mean! And old enough to be your father!"  
  
"He _is_ older. I admit that. But the other accusations are just unfair."  
  
"Are we even that certain about his loyalties? He could still be working for You-Know-Who," said Ron.  
  
Even Harry's eyes had flashed slightly at that remark. Hermione felt her face flush scarlet with indignation on behalf of brave Severus. He had shown his true colors when he became a spy, risking his life again and again for them and for their safety. He was playing a dangerous game and received not even a modicum of thanks or gratitude for it. And it was quite possible that he never would.  
  
"Ron ..." said Harry warningly as Hermione struggled for words.  
  
"All right. Maybe that was unfair. But still, he has a past. He was once one of _them_. Do you really feel safe knowing that?" asked Ron, back pedaling slightly.  
  
"I trust him completely. You didn't see how brave his was in there. He always thought of us, of Ginny and me, first. Our safety was his first priority. And speaking of Ginny, I don't see you mercilessly hounding your sister about her love life," said Hermione. Her tone was cold, but anger was getting the better of her nonetheless.  
  
She saw Harry raise his eyebrows in shock out of the corner of her eye. Ron simply turned a rather deep shade of red.  
  
"Professor Lupin is a very nice man. He is a paragon of virtue and ... and ... decency. I can trust him with Ginny. He gave me his word of honor, I'll have you know, and I know that his intentions are nothing but honorable," said Ron very loudly.  
  
"And you're saying that Severus could never be like that?" asked Hermione.  
  
The irony was that, though Hermione would never tell her friends so, the two of them had agreed not to allow their relationship to move to a more intimate level until she had completed her studies. To Severus it _was_ a matter of honor, ethics, and integrity, just as it was for Remus Lupin. To Hermione it was an understandable precaution that was quite necessary at least until she learned a few handy protective spells. But she was certainly not to going to tell Ron Weasley that.  
  
"Yes!" said Ron emphatically. "And I think you know it."  
  
"You're wrong," she said.  
  
Little did any of the trio realize that Ron was about to take the argument to the next level.  
  
"I never exactly liked the fact that you went out with Viktor Krum, but to insult his memory like this ..."  
  
The next thing Ron knew he was clutching the side of his face, which was smarting. In fact he thought he could see stars. Hermione had backhanded him with all of her strength.  
  
"Don't you ever say that again!" she said shrilly. There were tears in her voice. "Damn you, Ronald Weasley, don't you dare ever say anything about Viktor again!"  
  
Harry placed himself between them, afraid of what Ron would say and what Hermione would do.  
  
Viktor Krum had been killed during the spring of her fifth year. He had died trying to hold Durmstrang against an invasion of Dark Wizards in the absence of a strong headmaster. Viktor had remained at the school in an advisory position, granted to him because of his fame and because he had wanted it so badly. After many of the professors had fled, Krum and only a handful of students had defended the gate of their school with their lives while many of the other students looked on in apathy, waiting for the wizards to come and take over the school. Durmstrang's students had dark leanings according to rumor. It only became fact on that day. Viktor's parents had sent Hermione a letter, telling her how much he had loved her and how proud he was to have known her, if only for a year and a few months. Two years later, she still had the letter.  
  
Suggesting that she would do anything that would insult the memory of him was unthinkable and very cruel, and Ron knew that.  
  
"Fine. You got it," said Ron, narrowing his eyes at her and walking away.  
  
"I actually feel like we're all thirteen or fourteen again," muttered Harry, shaking his head. "But he will get over it," he assured her.  
  
Days had passed, and Ron ignored her. She was sorry she had lost her temper and slapped him, but a part of her still felt that he had deserved it.   
  
His silence made her miserable, so much so that she had mentioned it to Severus. His answer? An understanding nod and muttered words about how hard it was to cross certain lines, such as the one between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the 'age line' between the two of them, and the dividing line between good and evil that Ron perceived between his friends and himself and their potions' master. Very hard to cross indeed, especially for some people.  
  
And Hermione loved Severus all the more for his patient and thoughtful answer. He could have simply called Ron a small-minded twit and have been done with it. But he gave her more than that. It was sometimes extraordinary how sensitive and how wonderful he could be when he dropped his defenses, though that was not often.  
  
Hermione shivered and magically lit a fire in the hearth. It always seemed to go out when Severus was gone, as though it knew that it didn't need to be there. Conserving magical energy perhaps, she wondered idly, curling up on the couch and checking the time. It was a few minutes after ten o'clock. If Severus didn't arrive soon, Professor McGonagall would come for her, and the professor would not be pleased. Hermione was out after hours after all.  
  
Of course, in the back of her mind, there was also this little voice that said, "He's been found out. They've killed him. They're doing unspeakable things ..."  
  
Hermione squeezed her eyes closed and told herself to ignore it, that Severus had been at this for too long to die now, that he knew what he was doing. She rested her head against the arm of the couch and tried to think more positive thoughts, no matter how ludicrous.  
  
"He stopped on the way back for a butterbeer. He went to Diagon Alley for potions' ingredients, or ice cream. He had to see Dumbledore first thing ..." she told herself.  
  
She almost managed a chuckle at the mental imagine of Snape eating a sundae at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Maybe they could go there together sometime, when the war was over, in the summer time perhaps, when everything was right with the world again ...  
  
The door to the dungeon apartment opened without a sound, which is why Hermione awoke from her half-dozing state with a jolt when someone sat down next to her on the couch.  
  
"Shouldn't you be studying for your Newts?"  
  
It was Severus. Hermione turned and would have made a comment about studying for four hours straight earlier that evening, but the words died at her lips. His face was much more pale than normal, and there were dark circles forming under his eyes. He was struggling to hide the fact, but he was trembling too. Hermione knew that the Cruciatus curse had been used on him and not just a few times. The acrid scent of dark magic and pain clung to him like a second set of robes.  
  
"Severus?" she questioned as he closed his eyes.  
  
"You know how much I hate the tone of voice. I'm all right, Hermione," he said, detecting a fearful or perhaps anguished note of pity in her voice.  
  
She touched his arm lightly, extracting a pained hiss before thinking better of it, and asked, "Severus, can I at least help you to bed then?"  
  
"I can manage ..." he began to say.  
  
"Please?"  
  
Severus slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. His lips twitched slightly. If it weren't for the pain, he might have smiled. Maybe it wasn't pity. Even after returning to the world of the living, as he thought of it, she continued to show him concern and affection and that funny little thing called compassion. He had been more than a little afraid that it would be too difficult for their relationship to continue or that her feelings would change when the danger had passed. But as he looked into her eyes, he knew that nothing had changed, at least not yet. He nodded his assent silently and saw vague relief register in her eyes.   
  
Hermione moved to help him up from the couch and watched him grimace as she touched him. Another cruelty of the curse that had been so heavily applied to Severus. Every touch, meant to comfort or soothe, only caused more pain and suffering for the victim. She drew away for a moment.  
  
"It's all right," said Severus softly. "I am quite accustomed to the sensation."  
  
"I wish you weren't," she said in a whisper, looking away.  
  
It would never seem right to her nor fair that Severus was tortured so cruelly and so often, even if it was to a good end, even if it would help them win the war. No matter how valuable the information he learned was, she would always wonder if it were worth it. Just as Hermione wondered if it would cost him his life before the end.  
  
"It is necessary," he told her, almost reading her thoughts.  
  
She nodded mutely and helped him to his room, desperately trying to be gentle. His steps were slow and uncertain, but his strength did not fail him. He had walked from the edge of the Dark Forest, and exhaustion was beginning to set in.  
  
He felt unburdened and significantly more comfortable when Hermione slipped his heavy robes from his shoulders and laid them aside with a look of distaste. The thick robes carried the scent of dark magic and perhaps of evil itself.   
  
It was the middle of April and rather unseasonably warm even in the late evening, but he continued to wear his heavier clothes to the meetings. No amount of fabric could lessen the effects of the Cruciatus curse, but the robes padded his body against the hard ground or stone floors upon which he and his former comrades writhed in agony, and he tried to spare himself bumps and bruises whenever possible. The fewer concealing charms he used, the better, Severus had decided long ago.  
  
"I can get the buttons," said Severus as she began unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
"You're shaking. Let me do it," said Hermione.  
  
"I'm not helpless," he reminded her.  
  
"Of course not. Far from it, actually. If you were, I don't think you would be here ..." she answered, trailing off suddenly.  
  
"I wish I could tell you something that would make this better for both of us, Hermione, but there is nothing that I can say to reassure you. This is my ... our life right now," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.  
  
"And I wish I could say something to you," she said with a soft chuckle, gently pulling his shirt from his shoulders. "You need it more than I do," she added silently, looking at his sickly complexion and haunted, pain-filled eyes.  
  
Hermione was amazed that Severus could be so nonchalant about the torture he experienced on a relatively regular basis and had been experiencing for almost three years. She had been aware from the beginning, from the beginning of her fifth year, that whenever he was not present at the castle, he was somewhere unpleasant, but she had never seen the effects of the curse close up, not even following Voldemort's first and failed assault on Hogwarts the previous year. In the last week she had had enough experience to last her a life time.  
  
"Shoes," she muttered, carefully forcing him to sit down on the bed. He did not have the strength or will or inclination to resist.  
  
"I sleep in my socks, you know, although I usually kick them off in the middle of the night," he said as she carefully tugged his shoes from his feet.  
  
Hermione chuckled softly and said, "Well, you do live in a drafty dungeon. I'm not surprised you sleep in them." "And he probably doesn't sleep very soundly. I know I couldn't in his position," she thought unhappily.  
  
"Drafty?" he questioned, managing to feign an insulted tone.   
  
His lips tried to quirk into a semblance of a smile, but he was too weary to manage it. He enjoyed teasing her, mostly because she never knew when he was serious and when he was only kidding. He enjoyed the banter, which made his heart feel a good bit lighter.  
  
"Chilly then?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes slightly as she helped him out of his trousers.  
  
How could he do that? How could he joke when he was trembling from the aftermath of an unforgivable curse? Hermione would never understand him. She was certain of that. But she was willing to spend many years, a life time if necessary, in the attempt. Her stomach flip-flopped at the sudden sentiment.  
  
"So this is falling in love. Interesting," she thought.  
  
"Yes, the dungeons are a bit chilly, I suppose," he acknowledged.  
  
"Do you want a nightshirt?" she asked, looking toward a bureau set against the wall. She already knew where most of his things were.  
  
"Just a warming charm on the linens, if you please," he said, climbing under the covers and lying on his stomach, which always seemed to be the most comfortable way to sleep after an evening with Voldemort. More comfortable and more secure.  
  
Hermione tucked him in carefully and brushed strands of jet black hair away from his face before casting the charm. Severus sighed softly, gratefully as the warmth enveloped his body, soothing the aching pain in his bones. It was almost as good as a nice long bath.  
  
Then he heard Hermione whispering a few incantations under her breath. He opened one eye and watched her waving her wand over him. The ache was diminishing further and the exhaustion with it, leaving him sleepy, but no longer in severe pain or distress. She had taken it upon herself to learn anti-Cruciatus spells.  
  
"I hope you haven't been practicing this on anyone else," he murmured.  
  
"Well, I considered trying it on a spider or something, but then, a spider couldn't tell me if it worked or not," she replied in a very matter-of-fact tone.  
  
"Thank you for doing this for me," he said, letting his eyes close on their own accord.  
  
She leaned down and kissed his forehead, answering, "You don't have to thank me, Severus. I'm just doing what I can."  
  
He grunted softly in reply before falling fast asleep. Hermione murmured a few more quiet, gentle spells designed to remove the side effects of particularly brutal curses and smoothed the linens compulsively.  
  
"Miss Granger," said a voice from the doorway behind her, startling her badly, "I do believe it is after curfew."  
  
She turned with her wand raised to see Albus Dumbledore standing there watching her. How long he had been there she could not say.  
  
"I was just on my way out, sir," she stammered.  
  
"Don't worry, child. I haven't come here to scold you or deduct house points," he chuckled. "I just wanted to be sure that Severus had returned to us unharmed," Dumbledore added, striding toward the bed.  
  
"I don't know if I would say unharmed," said Hermione softly, moving aside so that the headmaster could take a look at his young colleague.  
  
"Yes, perhaps that isn't a fair assessment," conceded Dumbledore, laying a hand upon Severus' forehead. "You have already taken care of him, I see. Well done, Miss Granger."  
  
"Just some simple spells I learned."  
  
"You are doing yourself a disservice. The spells that combat the effects of the Cruciatus curse are hardly elementary."  
  
"Thank you, professor."  
  
"I am glad that he has you, Miss Granger. It will make the coming days easier for him. Has he given you any news?" questioned Dumbledore.  
  
"About the war?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"He almost never mentions it. Sometimes he slips, but not very often."  
  
"Severus is protecting you. There are servants of darkness even within these walls. He would not give them any cause to harm you or seek to extract information from you."  
  
"How many are there?" Hermione asked with a slight quaver in her voice.  
  
She hated the idea of any of Hogwarts' students taking the Mark or serving Voldemort in any fashion. Hermione did not wish to fight her own classmates when the time for the final battle comes. It was a sickening thought.  
  
"Severus knows of three. Two have taken the Dark Mark, though they have not openly revealed it to him. He is not completely trusted even now, you see. One is wavering. Severus does not know if he will succumb to the dark forces around him or even if he already has. There may be others, of course."  
  
"I know you cannot tell me who it is, but are they all in Slytherin?"  
  
"I cannot even answer that. I do not wish to falsely confirm your suspicions concerning your fellow students," said Dumbledore, looking over his spectacles at her.  
  
"Of course not."  
  
Turning his attention back to sleeping Severus, he said, "I have other business tonight, but I think I will stay here with Severus for a while. You should return to your dormitory before Professor McGonagall becomes agitated."  
  
Hermione nodded and took one last look at Severus. His face looked peaceful. It was a rare sight. His color was coming back too.  
  
"Good-night, professor," she said to Dumbledore before turning and leaving.  
  
"That's quite a girl you've got there, Severus. I hope you can hold onto her," he said quietly.  
  
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A/N: The quote at the beggining of the chapter is from the book "The Neverending Story" by Michael Ende and is roughly translated as: "But that is another story and should be told another time."  
  
  
  
  



	2. In which Albus tells Minerva a story

Chapter Two  
  
In which Albus tells Minerva a story  
  
  
  
Minerva McGonagall was just warming the kettle for a late night cup of herbal tea when there was a soft, but distinct rapping at her door. She had just sent Miss Granger back to the dormitories with a mild warning about staying out after hours. She never liked to fuss at the young witch on nights when Severus was out on business. It seemed quite uncharitable to deprive her colleague of his only comfort.   
  
Minerva smiled and glanced at the table for two by the window. Everything seemed to be working out so well. She smoothed her green robes and walked to the door.  
  
"Good evening, Albus," she said warmly as she opened the door.  
  
"Someday you're going to do that and it won't be me. Then our little secret will be out. I can only imagine what the students would say," said Dumbledore in amusement as he walked into her parlor. He took a deep breath and savored the smell of the tea mingled with the scent of a warmly crackling fire and Minerva's favorite perfume.  
  
"I can imagine a few of them having apoplectic fits," she chuckled before pouring their drinks and sitting down with him at the table.  
  
The sky was clear that night and full of stars that seemed to twinkle. Or else some of those muggle aeroplane contraptions were flying over head. Minerva had not been a romantic since she was quite young. But perhaps Albus was rekindling a spark of that in her.  
  
"This is very good," he commented, sipping the tea.  
  
"Thank you. I bought a tin of it in Hogsmeade a few weekends ago," she told him.  
  
"I have something important that I wish to discuss with you," Albus informed her after a moment.  
  
"Yes, you mentioned that earlier. Should I be worried?"  
  
Albus took a deep breath and said, "Now how to answer that question?"  
  
"Honestly?" she chuckled, fascinated by the mildly uncomfortable look in his eyes.  
  
"Naturally," he said with a soft, but perhaps nervous smile. "You don't know very much about my life before I came here to teach, do you?"  
  
"You worked as an alchemist, am I right?"  
  
"Yes, for a time," he nodded, "but there is something else."  
  
"What?" she asked curiously.  
  
Albus set down his tea cup and looked her straight in the eye before speaking again. He did not relish telling Minerva this because he could not say for sure how she would react. She was a woman, after all, and therefore somewhat unpredictable. But nevertheless, it was something that she simply had to know about him and his past.  
  
"Would you be surprised to learn that I was once married?" he questioned.  
  
"Well, I suppose it would only make sense. A wizard of your age and stature ..." stammered Minerva, not so much shocked, but a bit confused. Why was he mentioning this now?  
  
"If you are curious, she was a muggle."  
  
"I see ..." said Minerva, nodding slowly that she understood.  
  
"I wanted you to know. If we are going to ... that is, if you and I decide to become more than just friends ... I thought it necessary to inform you of ... my past history in this particular area," he said, stumbling over the words.  
  
"Very thoughtful of you," she said, reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. Then she froze. "You mean, if we become romantically involved?" she asked, her eyes widening.  
  
"Have I over-stepped my bounds?" he asked quickly.  
  
"Not at all," she replied even more quickly.  
  
"Good," he said, smiling and relaxing.  
  
"Tell me about her," said Minerva after a quiet moment.  
  
"My wife?"  
  
"Yes, unless, of course, you would rather not ..."  
  
Albus smiled and said, "Not at all, but I haven't spoken of her in many years."  
  
Dumbledore sat back in his chair and looked out the window. It had been almost a lifetime ago. More than that in muggle terms.  
  
"Her name was Anya Tarasov. I met her while I was on holiday in St. Petersburg, Russia in 1862, during the time when I was researching dragon's blood. I had been out on the Siberian dragon ranges for months. The head of the range sent me away for two weeks, claiming that I was becoming obsessed and that I needed to take some time off. I was just four years out of school and had spent three and a half of them there with the dragons and the other researchers, so perhaps he was right.  
  
"I met Anya a few blocks away from the entrance to wizarding St. Petersburg. She was holding a street map, squinting at it with all of her might, and not watching where she was going. She stepped into the street, and I was obliged to shove her out of the way of an oncoming carriage, narrowly escaping being run down by it. She looked at me with these big brown eyes and thanked me. I said something in broken Russian that was probably the equivalent of 'bad horsies no trample pretty girl', and she laughed and gave me a peck on the cheek."  
  
"That's rather sweet," commented Minerva.  
  
"That was Anya," Albus shrugged. "We exchanged letters for a year before I told her that I was a wizard. She was ... not surprised. She knew that there was something different about me."  
  
"I imagine that it would be very difficult for you to hide your abilities," nodded Minerva, pouring them both more tea.  
  
"And I was much younger then. Less experienced in the ways of the world, especially the muggle one," he admitted.  
  
"And you married her?"  
  
"Actually, I think they would call it eloping. Or maybe kidnapping," he said with a look of faint amusement and nostalgia.  
  
Minerva raised her eyebrows and asked, "Really?"  
  
"Her father wanted her to marry a local grocer in her village. She didn't love him, but the man had a steady job and was rather normal. I was ... well, I was me. So I took her away with me on my broom late one night. We were married in France about a week later. She was very firm about that. We had to get married," chuckled Albus, fondly recalling his headstrong young bride. "Anya was one of the most determined women I ever knew, present company excluded, of course," he added with a twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"Thank you," Minerva murmured quietly into her teacup.  
  
"Anya adapted rather well to life in our world. She was only a little afraid of dragons, which was quite fortunate since we lived on various dragon ranges for almost fifteen years while I completed my research. Then we returned to England and my ancestral home. I did some work in alchemy, coming home every night like a dutiful husband to sit by the fire while she did her knitting. Those were good years," he said with a sigh.  
  
"Were there children, Albus?" Minerva questioned.  
  
"Anya wanted them, but we couldn't, so she taught local children their letters and things like that to make up for it. She would have been an excellent mother. I am certain of that," he replied.  
  
Albus looked at Minerva for a few moments. She was staring out the window with a very contemplative look upon her face. He smiled softly at her.  
  
"You want to know what became of her," he said.  
  
"Yes," she said with a barely perceptible nod.  
  
"She died almost eighty years ago, just a few years after I began teaching transfigurations. It was ... very sudden. On minute we were laughing in the garden. The next she simply collapsed. Heart failure or some such nonsense. I applied myself toward many things, Minerva, but for some reason never the healing arts. I don't believe I could have saved her, but it would have been nice to be able to try more adequately."  
  
"Surely you can't blame yourself."  
  
"No, truthfully I don't. I always knew that as a wizard I would outlive her by many years. We were very close in age, you see. I just didn't expect it to be so sudden or to be so powerless when the time came. My friend Nicolas Flamel offered ... many times in fact ... to give Anya the Elixir of Life so that she could stave off old age and we could grow old together in the end. But she refused. Anya believed that magic had a place in the world as did magical people, but she did not believe in using wizardry to such an end. And I did not try to coerce her. She was much too stubborn for that.  
  
"After Anya was gone I took a sabbatical from teaching and lived in the muggle world for about a year. I surrounded myself with things that reminded me of her. Then I returned to our home and tried to make sense of it all. I decided that Anya would have wanted me to continue teaching. She had been so happy when I was offered the position at Hogwarts even though it kept me away from her so much of the time. So I returned and the rest, as they say, is history. But I would be lying if I said that I don't miss her from time to time."  
  
"Of course. It's only natural," said Minerva sympathetically.  
  
"I didn't realize I would be recounting my life story tonight," Albus chuckled, surreptitiously wiping his eyes under the guise of adjusting his spectacles. "But those were very happy years, Minerva, very much like the years I have known you," he added.  
  
Reaching across the table again, she squeezed his hand. Albus smiled and caught her hand in his own.  
  
"I'm glad you told me this," she said.  
  
"Sometimes it does feel good to talk about the past," he admitted.  
  
"Do you have a picture of her?"  
  
"No, photography was such a new thing back then, wizarding photography especially. I had a painting commissioned of her before I came here, but I put it in storage ages ago. It does not do to dwell on dreams, or on memories, and forget to live," he explained.  
  
"So you have often said."  
  
"Minerva?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"You aren't jealous, are you?" he asked hesitantly.  
  
"Did she make you happy?"  
  
"She was my every joy for many, many years," said Albus honestly, glancing out the window. His eyes gleamed for a moment with unshed tears. They did not do unnoticed.  
  
"Then, no, I am glad that you had that, Albus. I always thought that your life seemed rather lonely. I'm very glad that it wasn't," she replied.  
  
Albus smiled and said, "Rarely have I been lonely, Minerva. I have always had dear friends like you to keep me company."  
  
"Albus, where do we go from here?" she questioned after a few moments.  
  
"If you still would allow it, I would like to - what do they say nowadays? - see you, Minerva? It sounds rather absurd. I have been seeing you very nearly every day since you came to this castle, as indecent as that might sound. I suppose that I want to see more of you, although that has a rather lecherous ring to it as well. Do you take my point, Minerva?" he asked, looking into her eyes.  
  
Minerva chuckled and said, "Of course I do, Albus, and I would be delighted."  
  
Albus smiled and told her, "I've been wanting to do this for nearly fifty years, you know. I had almost given up hope."  
  
"It is all a matter of timing, I suppose," said Minerva.  
  
"And even now, that is not the best. In midst of another war ..."  
  
"It always seems to happen that way," Minerva conceded, remembering the wizarding war more than fifty years earlier that had been caused by Grindelwald and his followers.   
  
That was when she had first fallen in love with Albus, her transfigurations' professor, and unbeknownst to her at time, when he had begun to love her as well. But circumstances, the horrors of the war and all that she had learned, forced her to request a memory charm to combat the horrific memories of the battle with the Dark Wizard, taking from her the memory of both the horrors and of her first kiss. Many long years those memories had slept until the recent incident involving two students, two professors, and the mirror realm wherein the Founders had imprisoned a hoard of monsters.  
  
"We will weather this," Albus told her firmly.  
  
"You sound so confident."  
  
"I must," said Dumbledore, leaving his seat. "The tea was excellent, very relaxing. We both have much work to do tomorrow. You have your classes, and I have other business to attend to. I think I should bid you good-night."  
  
Rising from her chair, Minerva asked him, "When did we stop doing this?"  
  
"Tea and quiet talks by the fire, you mean?"  
  
"Yes, exactly."  
  
Albus frowned and said, "I believe it was during the crisis involving that Welsh witch. During the sixties, wasn't it?"  
  
"Funny. I didn't think it was _that_ long ago," said Minerva, shaking her head.  
  
"Before the rise of Voldemort."  
  
Minerva shivered and nodded, "Yes, I suppose it was."  
  
She still couldn't understand the ease with which he said that name. Maybe it was because he had seen other Dark Wizards. Maybe it was because this was not his first battle with evil. Minerva shook her head as she realized that Voldemort was not her first brush with the darkness either. She had been there at the defeat of Grindelwald too. She had played her part. She would do so again.  
  
"Minerva, don't worry too much. Whatever comes will come," said Dumbledore gently. "We will be prepared," he added, drawing her into his arms.  
  
"Of course," she agreed, hiding her misgivings as she rested her head against his shoulder.  
  
"And from what I have learned recently, it may all be over by the end of the term," he told her.  
  
"Meaning that there will be a second battle before the gates of the school in as many years."  
  
"True, but everyone will be ready this time. If everything goes according to plan, we certainly won't be caught unawares again," said Albus as he released her.  
  
Minerva could see a fierce determination burning in his bright blue eyes. It was almost infectious. She nodded and felt her resolve strengthen.  
  
"Then I suppose we both need our rest," she said, realizing that she was keeping him up later than intended.  
  
Walking to the door together, Albus said, "We will do this more often."  
  
"Nothing would make me happier," she said with a nod.  
  
He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
"Good-night, my dear."  
  
"Good-night, Albus," she said, closing the door behind him.  
  
He had given her a lot to think about. At first Minerva had wondered why he wanted to tell her about his previous marriage, but she realized that it was because Albus was quite serious, that he believed that they could having something more meaningful, something more than just a close friendship, together. And he wanted to be honest with her. Minerva appreciated that.  
  
She chuckled as she put away the tea things, pushing thoughts any of the war and impending battle to the back of her mind. It was not something to dwell upon before bedtime. Minerva was happy to think on more pleasant things instead, such as Albus Dumbledore wanting to see more of her. That was priceless.  
  
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A/N: What would one of my stories be without a little fluff? This chapter is the by product of an exceptionally weird conversation regarding Dumbledore's past. Does it advance the plot? Not half as much as I wanted it to. The next chapter will be more exciting.  
  
  
Ariane Black: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Lexia: Thank you very much! I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
  
Mercurial: Thanks for the review:  
  
lama: Thank you very much for pointing that out! I wasn't on crack or anything, I promise! I just wasn't paying enough attention.  
  
labrisa: I go 'poor Snape' all the time. I totally understand. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Aine Deande: I admire you die-hard-ness; I can't seem to just pick a ship and stick with it. I'm glad you enjoyed the quote. I never got to read _die unendliche Geschichte_ as a kid; I read it in a child-and-youth literature class in school though. I loved it. Great book. I really appreciate your comments about the characterization and mood. I always worry about that (level of fluffiness especially). And Snape sleeps in his socks because neither Hermione nor I could get him to take them off. Thanks again!  
  
Serenity Raye: Ron isn't one of my favorite characters, which is sad because I really like all of the other Weasleys, even Percy. But as for Ron's initial reaction to Remus and his sister ... that will have to wait. Thank you for the review!  
  
excessivelyperky: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Tevkins: Yay, another Michael Ende fan! As for the unfortunate moments - I laughed so hard when I read that - you are right, I suppose. That could be trouble. Of course, most of the time Minerva would know that Hermione is in the dungeons (and would be coming back via floo). They are both intelligent. They would work out a system or something to avoid anything too embarrassing. Thank you for the thought-provoking review!  
  
Slythdor: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Sci-Fi Nut: Yes, Ron does have some issues. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
plastic: Um, Ron? A Death Eater? Jealousy can drive people to do crazy things, but still ... Ron? Thank you for the review!  
  
Pidgie: Thanks!  
  
Michelle: The movie was very interesting. I wasn't the first to come up with anti-Cruciatus spells. I wish I knew who did, so I could tip my hat to them. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
LadyTiffany: *blushes* Thank you!  
  
  



	3. In which there is a Death Eater meeting

Chapter Three  
  
In which there is a Death Eater meeting  
  
  
Earlier that same evening ...  
  
  
  
Severus lifted himself from the damp stone floor. His arms trembled uncontrollably under his own weight. He was in a room, more properly a small dungeon, dank and subterranean, and lying on the ground, surrounded by a circle of Death Eaters, almost all of whom had been subjected to one curse or another for their varying levels of perceived disobedience or incompetence. Lord Voldemort, who had just delivered a string of curses, including most prominently the Cruciatus curse, his favorite, was staring down at him with mild amusement and disdain. Severus slowly rose, struggling to seem impassive and chastened at the same time. He felt neither. His heart was pounding and the pain had not dulled sufficiently for him to think of anything else.  
  
"You are a great disappointment to me, Severus," said Voldemort in a dangerously unconcerned tone. It was the one he used right before he was finished with someone, right before he killed them.  
  
Severus remained silent. There was nothing anyone could say that would sway Voldemort in the least once he had decided one of his follower's fates. He kept his eyes upon the floor. There was no need to invite another curse and additional pain. And to look Lord Voldemort in the eye often resulted in just that.  
  
"I am giving you another chance. One last opportunity, if you will, to bring me what I want. It is not a difficult thing that I ask of you, Severus. I expect it to be done by the next time I summon you. Or else it will be the last time," said Voldemort. His voice was icy and admonishing in very threatening way. There was no doubt that he was deadly serious.  
  
"Yes, my lord," Severus answered perfunctorily.  
  
"And here is a reminder," said Voldemort. "_Crucio_!"  
  
Severus collapsed again, but did not cry out. He remained silent and relatively composed. His body was well schooled in accepting the torture. And the other Death Eaters respected him for that if for nothing else. When subjected to the Cruciatus curse, Malfoy groaned like a large animal giving birth. Crabbe and Goyle gibbered like idiots. Avery shrieked like a small child. MacNair squeaked like a rabbit. The others screamed and pled for mercy in half-coherent babble. But Snape managed to endure it without a sound. Few were the times when Voldemort had coaxed anything from him.  
  
Severus remained on the ground a long time after the curse had ended. He was almost certain that he would lose consciousness. Then he remembered Hermione.  
  
"She is waiting for you, Severus, and if you pass out here, she will worry," he told himself, slowly dragging himself to his feet.  
  
Voldemort had turned his attention to Lucius Malfoy again, which Severus found rather pleasing on some level. It was probably his son Draco who had brought Severus' recent adventure to the attention of his father and Lucius who had mentioned it to Voldemort. The Dark Lord had been quite interested in his sojourn in the prison realm of the demons, of which he had heard rumors during his own school days. The thing he required of Severus was information regarding many facets of the prison world, such as how to unlock the realm, how to unleash the demons therein, and how others might be imprisoned there permanently. Severus remembered well his words from when he first made the request.  
  
"Salazar Slytherin had a hand in creating this, and anything he made I can turn to my advantage. I want every scrap of information collected, every rumor and theory cataloged, and every way and means of using this to the furtherance of my cause discovered," Voldemort had instructed him on the fateful night just two days after his return.  
  
"But, my lord, Dumbledore had all of the records removed ..."  
  
"I will not hear this from you!" Voldemort has hissed.  
  
Much later, many curses later, the Dark Wizard spoke again: "Krohn would have made notes. The man was a fool and seldom looked to further knowledge for practical reasons. But he would have made a record of how Herr Grindelwald was imprisoned. He was meticulous, much like you, my dear Severus. I suggest you do not return to me empty-handed. I will not be pleased."  
  
Severus had informed Dumbledore of the mandate he had been given. The headmaster had looked very grave and told Severus to see what he could find. He was worried. And the potions' master shared that sentiment. It was imperative that the information be found, and destroyed for all time. If Voldemort unleashed the hoard, there would be no winner in their war. At least, there would be no wizard winners in the war. The demons would simply divide and conquer. Hogwarts would be destroyed. Then the monsters would turn on Voldemort. Wizarding England would be laid waste. And then ... perhaps the rest of the world.  
  
Severus had kept all of this from Hermione, who had only questioned him when she had witnessed him rummaging through the potions' tomes in his quarters, ones leftover from the last potions' master who had occupied the rooms, who had taught him. Professor Krohn had been in his late sixties at the time and had been everything Voldemort called him and more besides.  
  
Severus had not appreciated the often impassive, yet sometimes mercurial man during his time as a student, considering him a relic of a by-gone age, the age of Grindelwald, for the professor had never moved on. After his experience in the prison realm, Snape understood why Krohn had remained trapped in time. It had been his potion that had thrown the Dark Wizard into that prison world. It had not been an easy task, nor one that could be readily forgotten. Those eerily hawk-like hazel eyes had seen so much, too much perhaps.  
  
But Severus owed Krohn a debt, one that he acknowledged with painful reluctance, that could never be repaid. It had been his old head of house who had convinced him to seek forgiveness from Dumbledore and to offer his services as a spy when Snape had seen the error of his ways and knew Voldemort for what he truly was. Reynard Krohn had been positive, and strangely so, that the headmaster would allow him to make amends instead of permitting him to be taken straight to Azkaban and thrown to the dementors. And the aging professor had been right.  
  
Severus, finally recovering enough of his strength and his mind, returned to his place in the circle between Malfoy and Goyle. The former was lying upon the floor in a heap, breathing raggedly behind his mask. Voldemort had wandered back to a chair on a slightly raised stone dais. Every lord has his throne. That served as such for Lord Voldemort. He collapsed almost languidly into his seat. Had anyone there been old enough, it might have recalled to them the graceful languor of a studious and handsome young man named Tom Riddle, of whom very little remained.  
  
"When next I call upon you, we will begin planning our strike against Hogwarts. It must be planned very carefully. I do not expect to fail this time," said Voldemort.  
  
Various Death Eaters murmured agreement and oaths not to fail again. Voldemort had not been lenient when they had failed to take the castle the year before. Severus' heart pounded as he remembered enchanting his wand to only cast stunning spells no matter what he had attempted during the battle. He had avoided hitting any students, but he had grazed Professor Sinistra, who had been crouching over a fallen Ravenclaw boy who was in his seventh year. The young man had died, despite her best efforts. Severus, who had been in disguise like his 'comrades', had wondered if he had inadvertently contributed to his death. Later he had overheard Anna tell Professor Sprout that it had been a combination of nasty and deadly curses. Nothing could have been done. And Severus had felt relieved, but only a little.  
  
"And perhaps this time we might have some assistance," added Voldemort, leering slightly at Severus.   
  
He raised his wand slightly, but seemed to think better of it. Or was he only toying with the weakened potions' master? Severus imagined that in his condition, not helped any by the recent demonic unpleasantness, Voldemort might have been able to extract a muted cry, or else cause him to pass out. Then, of course, there was always the possibility of madness. Severus only nodded mutely and tried to keep expression neutral: no distaste, no anger, no fear, no nervousness.  
  
"For those of you with children in our order," Voldemort began, and Severus could barely suppress the spark of interest or curiosity in his eyes, "see to it that they are well-informed as to their duties and responsibilities, but do not tell them any more than that."  
  
Severus glanced out of the corner of his eye at the Death Eaters by his side. They gave no indication as to whether that order applied to them or not. He was aware that some of his students were under the Dark Lord's sway, voluntarily, and that one or more were possibly having influence exerted over them by means of the Imperious Curse. The level of trust that Voldemort had in him did not extend to informing him of the names of new members. Their identities remained somewhat secret as in the old days. There were ever those in the circle, additions to the cause, whose identities were not known by all. But he suspected that Draco Malfoy had taken the Mark of his own free will, and if he had, then Crabbe and Goyle had possibly done the same. If only Severus could be certain. The Imperious Curse was not beyond Lucius' skill.  
  
"You are all dismissed," said Voldemort.  
  
Severus loathed this part of the meeting. It was worse than the curses on some level. One by one they filed up to the chair where Voldemort sat and kissed the hem of his robes before leaving the chamber to disapparate. Even as a blind and stupid eighteen-year-old, Severus had hated the grotesque obsequiousness of the gesture. How long had it been since any of them had revered Voldemort? Had any of them kissed his robe out of anything but fear in many years? Severus had been punished for his own insouciance and disregard during those first dark days of Voldemort's power. But now those punishments were much stiffer, because Voldemort simply wasn't human anymore.  
  
Severus was the last in line, just behind Goyle, who had little difficulty in fawning at the feet of his master. He imagined that his son would be the same.  
  
Severus knelt and pressed the hem of the dark garment to his lips. He was careful not to look up as he did so. It was be difficult enough to leave his knees without undergoing another Cruciatus. He had lost count of them already. And Hermione would be waiting for him, he reminded himself. She would know what he had allowed Voldemort to do to him. She would know what had happened. And she would be very distressed by it.  
  
He started to rise from the floor, the irksome deed done, but a wand upon his shoulder restraining him. Severus froze in place and looked up at Voldemort.  
  
"A word, Severus."  
  
"My lord?"  
  
"Do not fail me. I have no qualms about killing you. You know that. But you are useful to me, so long as you are obedient. But if you disobey, I will make an example of you such as your fellows will not forget in a very, very long time."  
  
"Yes, my lord," he replied, feeling his stomach knot.   
  
Voldemort did not make idle threats, and Severus had seen what had become of those of whom he had made an example. More than a few of those images Severus knew he would carry to his grave, unable to forget the agony he had witnessed, which had been beyond human understanding. Even during the years of watchful peace, they had given him nightmares.  
  
"Then we understand each other," said Voldemort slowly.  
  
"I would not dare to suppose that I ..." Severus began, knowing well what he was required to say in such a circumstance.  
  
"Spare me," said Voldemort. "And get out of my sight."  
  
Severus bowed and left the dungeon chamber with quick and even steps. He could not have run even if he had wanted to do so, and he did not wish to give Voldemort the satisfaction of seeing him stumble. Not again, not even again.  
  
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A/N: I have never written Voldemort before, so the characterization may be somewhat off.  
  
  
BLV: Thanks for the review and the email!  
  
Pidgie: There will be a Ginny/Remus chapter soon. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
LadyTiffany: Thank you for the very kind review!  
  
a: Autumn. Well, late autumn. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
plastic: Thank you!  
  
Michelle: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Aine Deande: I really appreciate all of your comments. I was very worried about the previous chapter. Thank you!  
  
  



	4. In which Remus and Ginny learn some thin...

Chapter Four  
  
In which Remus and Ginny learn some things  
  
  
  
The following morning Severus left his chambers somewhat later than usual. His body was still stiff and slightly uncooperative, but thanks to Hermione, the pain was nothing like it should have been. Instead of going on directly to the Great Hall and to breakfast, Severus chose to duck into the staff room to prepare some coffee before facing the irritating chatter that always pervaded the hall at mealtimes. He could have had coffee in his rooms, of course, but the temptation to linger there, comfortably sipping a warm cup before the fire, would have been too great. And if he had missed breakfast, Hermione would have lectured him that night about the importance of good nutrition and keeping up his strength. People who cared could be so meddlesome sometimes, he decided, opening the staff room door.  
  
"Good morning, Severus," said Professor Lupin as he stepped inside.  
  
Severus frowned. He had imagined that he would have the room to himself. Many of the professors were already at breakfast, and he had expected Remus to be one of them.  
  
"Remus," he acknowledged before going to one of the cupboards in the room and taking out a green and silver coffee cup. It was his, and knowing that, no one else ever touched it.  
  
He glanced at Lupin's cup, which was not surprisingly scarlet with a chipped handle. Was there anything he owned that wasn't slightly shabby? Severus wrinkled his nose slightly as he realized that the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was drinking what appeared to be hot chocolate instead of coffee. He was momentarily amazed that anyone could take him seriously. Then he remembered Remus' conduct in the demon realm. Appearances could be deceiving.  
  
"How are you and Hermione doing?" asked Remus conversationally.  
  
Snape glared at him as he prepared his cup of coffee and said, "That is supposed to be a secret."  
  
"I know," shrugged Remus, taking at seat on the window sill.  
  
"As well as can be expected," Severus conceded, realizing that the werewolf could never leave well enough alone. "And you and the Weasley girl?" he asked.  
  
"I am tutoring _Ginny_ in advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. She wants to be able to defend herself better. And others too, I imagine," said Remus.  
  
Severus frowned as he realized that her desire to learn advanced defense techniques was probably spurred on just as much by the attack on his person as the one on her own. Gryffindors were not always difficult to fathom.  
  
"Is she doing very well?" asked Snape.  
  
"Quite well actually. And it gives us a chance to spend more time together. You and Hermione might consider ..."  
  
"Believe me, Lupin, our relationship will be much more successful if she stays out of my area of expertise," Severus interrupted. "Just as I will stay out of hers," he added.  
  
"Transfigurations." Remus reminded him.  
  
Severus made a face into his coffee cup, imagining the influence that Minerva McGonagall would be having on Hermione, especially when she became her teaching assistant. Not that he was entirely displeased. Hermione would be remaining at Hogwarts, perhaps even for the summer, depending on the war.  
  
"No, for better or worse, the war will be over by summer," Severus thought, shaking his head.  
  
"Knut for your thoughts," said Remus, watching him with a curious expression.  
  
"My thoughts are worth much more than that, I assure you," said Snape sourly.  
  
"It's an expression."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You're worried about the future," said Professor Lupin. "But it doesn't take a genius to figure that out," he added.  
  
"And you aren't concerned?" asked Snape.  
  
"I am. I worry about what will become of our students. One in particular. I imagine that you know what I mean," said Remus.  
  
Severus looked at him for a moment and said, "I have inkling as to what you might mean by that."  
  
"If I thought she would go or if I knew somewhere safe enough, I would try to send her away from here," admitted Remus.  
  
"You're right. She wouldn't go," said Snape with a snort. "Hermione wouldn't either," he said with a bitter chuckle.   
  
But for an instant Severus was proud of her strength and determination and her desire to do her part in the war. Then he remembered the death toll from the last battle. And the horrible magical injuries. The pain and suffering caused by the conflict. Any Gryffindor-like sentiments he may have felt for the brief moment vanished, replaced by the more thoughtful, more Slytherin, and less romanticized perspective he normally enjoyed.  
  
Remus refilled his cup and held it up almost as though to make a toast. Severus sneered slightly, but joined suit with his half empty mug of coffee.  
  
"To wicked old cradle-robbers and the wonderful young women who love us," said Remus with a grin that managed to mask the growing sadness in his eyes.  
  
"I must insist that you stop calling me old," said Severus, clinking cups with his fellow professor and resisting the urge to smile.  
  
"And you should get to breakfast, Severus, before your ball and chain notices that you're missing," said Remus with a chuckle.  
  
Severus rinsed his cup and left it to find its own way back to the cupboard. At the door he turned and looked at Remus, who was gazing out the window and over the school grounds. He had a sudden thought concerning their banter.  
  
"You use humor to deflect everything, don't you?" Severus questioned.  
  
"Sometimes it's the best thing. In some situations ... in circumstances like these ... it is quite frequently the only thing," Remus answered with a weary half-smile.  
  
  
Later that day ...  
  
  
Ginny Weasley had never imagined that her sixth year would end up being so wonderful. Granted, she had come through a close encounter with a demon and several days of being trapped in a different realm of existence to get there, but whenever she looked at Remus, not to mention the way she noticed him looking at her, she was certain that it had been worth it. She closed the book she was reading, a rather dry text on defense against curses to prepare her for the next lesson that her tutor wanted to teach her, and glanced over at Remus, who was working at his writing desk while she lounged on the couch.  
  
It was ironic. He had almost seemed more at ease during their imprisonment than he did now. But then, Ginny suspected that something had happened to him after her escape, something that had truly rattled him. She had tried to get him to tell her about his journey from the Divinations classroom to the prefects' bath, but he always managed to change the subject. Remus was good at being evasive. He had kept the secret of his lycanthropy from many people. Maybe through keeping that secret he had become better at keeping others. But Ginny really wanted to know what he was keeping from her and why.  
  
"Remus? Are you almost done grading papers?" she asked with a little yawn as she sat up and set her book aside.  
  
He smiled over his shoulder at her and said, "I believe I can take a break if that's what you're asking, Ginny."  
  
She nodded and motioned for him to join her on the couch. Remus laid his quill aside and sat down heavily next to her. He didn't mind the interruption. The rolls of parchments on topics like _Practical Uses for Kneazle_s or _Defense Techniques Against Dragons_ from his third year students could wait, at least for a little while. He liked this part of their relationship. Quality time, Ginny called it. He pulled her into his arms and felt her sigh softly.  
  
"Something the matter?" he questioned.  
  
"If only I could ask you that and get a straight answer," she thought, looking upon to his troubled eyes. "Remus ..." she began to say, pausing when she felt his stiffen slightly. He knew that tone of voice already. "What happened in there?" she asked.  
  
He admired her persistence and her perceptiveness. Ginny just seemed to know when something was bothering him. He considered telling her that he was just worried about the war and the safety of everyone in the castle. It wouldn't be a lie exactly. Unpleasant thoughts about the conflict had been troubling him for quite some time, the only respite ironically being their time in the prison realm. But Remus didn't think that Ginny would accept that answer. It would be just one more thing to worry about for her when she was obviously quite busy worrying about him.  
  
It was time to tell her the truth about what was plaguing him, though he did not want to do it. It would frighten her, of course, but the account of what had happened during his escape he feared could possibly change the way she saw him for the worse. It had reawaken misplaced feelings of guilt and shame in himself that Remus believed had long been dealt with. What would her reaction be?  
  
"I spoke to one of them," Remus admitted to her, closing his eyes as he said those words.  
  
"You _spoke_ to one of the demons?" she questioned for clarification.  
  
"That's right."  
  
Ginny shivered slight at the thought and asked, "What did it say to you?"  
  
"The demon said that I was ... that since I am a werewolf ... that I am a Dark Creature like them ... their kindred. I was permitted to return, unchallenged and unharmed, only because they believed that I would kill and destroy in their place, that I am exactly like them," he confessed to her.  
  
"Surely you can't believe that," said Ginny, looking deeply into his eyes.  
  
"When I was a child, I often wondered if I was bitten, if I had become a werewolf, because I was bad. It was a long time before I understood that it wasn't my fault and that I didn't have to let the few nights I spend as a werewolf every month define who I am as a person. But as an adult, I haven't often thought of such things. What the demon said ... it was so unexpected that I suppose it blind-sided me. It's not easy to shrug off something like that," said Remus.  
  
"Of course not," Ginny said sympathetically.  
  
She touched his cheek and smiled rather sadly, seeing the pain and shame in his eyes. He didn't believe those terrible words, she knew, but they had reawakened doubt in his heart concerning his own nature. He caught her hand and held it for a moment.  
  
"Come here," she said softly, pulling Remus toward her.  
  
After a bit of pulling and gentle tugging Remus found himself lying down on his side with his head in Ginny's lap. She stroked his hair and hushed him as he tried to say something. She knew that it would be a flippant remark or an attempt to change the topic. She wouldn't put it past him to try and discuss the weather or tomorrow's Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. Ginny rubbed his shoulder and back and watched the turbulent expression in his eyes mellow.  
  
Remus drew his knees up and felt himself begin to relax. Ginny was everything he had ever needed. She had said very little regarding his conversation with the demon. She didn't need to do so, he realized, as she ran her fingers through his graying hair before kneading his shoulder. Ginny was able to convey her sentiments, her opinion of the whole affair, with just those gentle touches. What had happened changed nothing about how she felt about him.  
  
For a moment Ginny thought that Remus might break down in tears, but instead he merely closed his eyes. The tension in his shoulders dissipated. To Ginny he seemed more relaxed and at ease than he had been in days. The mystery of what had been troubling him had been solved. She was rather pleased that it was something so simple, although she was also certain that it had seemed anything but that to Remus. She could not imagine what had been going through his mind since the encounter. She suppressed the urge to shudder and merely continued to comfort Remus.  
  
"I love you, Ginny," he said quietly.  
  
Leaning down and kissing him softly on the temple, she said in tender reply, "And I love you too."  
  
Ginny wanted to do something to take his mind off the incident, something that would make him feel better too. Her hand brushed against his side. He wiggled slightly. She grinned as she realized that he was ticklish. For a moment a distinct resemblance between Ginny and two of her more mischievous brothers could be seen.  
  
"Remus, tell me, are you by any chance ..." she began to ask in an almost mock-innocent voice.  
  
He knew that tone. Not so much because of Ginny using it, but it reminded him of a few of his old school chums, who found it to be the height of absurdity that a werewolf was ticklish and would scream like a little girl if some of happened to cast Rictusempra on him, though they, like Ginny, were also never reluctant to use the old fashioned method too.  
  
"Now, Ginny ..." he started.  
  
But it was too late. She had seven brothers of various ages and abilities, including Charlie, Fred, and George who never happened to treat her like porcelain, especially if their parents weren't around. And somewhere between boisterous Charlie and the terrible twins, Ginny had become an expert tickler. Before Remus even knew what was happening, he had dissolved into a helpless fit of gasping laughter and what sounded suspiciously like giggles.  
  
"What were you saying?" Ginny asked, grinning at him almost ferociously as her fingers dug into his sides.  
  
Of course, Remus couldn't say anything, though some of his giggles sounded suspiciously like, "Stop it!" or perhaps even "Please!"  
  
In that situation Remus did the only thing that he could do, as he was far too old to scream for help. He tried to tickle Ginny back, which only naturally required a good deal of twisting and turning. The end result of his brief, but valiant struggle was a loud thud as they both wound up on the floor with Ginny on top.  
  
Remus groaned from the impact and said, "I surrender. Do what you will."  
  
"You know ... I would really like to take you up on that ..." said Ginny rather seductively, switching gears faster than Remus would have ever dreamed possible. "But I'm afraid that if I did that, it would violate a number of agreements we've made," she finished with a slight pout. How much of it was a put-on, Remus could not tell.  
  
She leaned down and kissed his slightly parted lips. He was still winded from their little tickle-fight, which had been almost utterly one-sided thanks to Ginny's many years of surviving her brothers. The playful look had yet to leave her eyes as she kissed him.  
  
Putting his arms around her, he mumbled in response to her observation, "Don't I know it."  
  
Remus would never forget that night after the previous full moon began to wane. There had been a completely unsubtle knocking at the door to his private rooms. He had been dozing by the fire and was awakened rather suddenly. His wand was in his hand in an instant as he dashed toward the door, thinking that the final battle with Voldemort was about to begin. He had thrown open the door expecting to see Albus Dumbledore or perhaps Severus having come to collect him for the battle.   
  
But it was none other than a red-faced Ron Weasley who greeted him with the words, "I'm here to defend my sister's honor."  
  
Remus had lowered his wand, half unwillingly as Ron appeared quite ready to draw his at a moment's notice, and asked, "Is it in any danger?"  
  
"You tell me, professor," said Ron.  
  
Remus had invited Ron inside as the corridor was not the appropriate place to have such an exchange, especially if it were to come to blows.  
  
"I have nothing but good intentions toward Ginny. I would never do anything to harm her or jeopardize her reputation or her future," Remus had explained to the young man.  
  
"That's exactly what I was worried about, sir. You see, she's my only sister, and I'm the only brother that she has here to look after her now. Harry said that I shouldn't be so concerned, and I would like to believe that, but you are a lot older than Ginny," Ron told him, calming down as he realized that Professor Lupin was taking him seriously.  
  
Remus nodded in an understanding manner and said, "And I am very glad that she has you, Ron. Very glad indeed. Your concerns are, of course, quite valid. I am a number of years older than either of you. Now what can I do to ease those concerns?"  
  
Ron seemed to think very hard for a moment before replying, "I just don't know."  
  
Remus had felt momentarily uneasy about the thought that if he could not convince Ron of his honorable intentions that the young man might bring his father, _their_ father, into the matter, or worse yet, Molly Weasley, who could be something of a holy terror in any matter that even seemed to threaten her children. Remus knew that they would have to be told eventually, but he wanted to choose the time, preferably closer to the end of Ginny's seventh year, and the place, with any luck a place too public for either parent to hex him, to officially ask for permission to court Ginny. He was already considering the possibility of marrying her, if she would have him, though he acknowledged that it was premature to act on that notion.  
  
"Ron," Remus had said, "I give you my word of honor that my conduct with your sister will be above reproach, that I will in no way sully her good reputation or allow her to come to harm through any fault of mine."  
  
Ron looked at him incredulously and said, "That was precisely what I needed to hear, professor."  
  
"Good," said Remus with a slight smile.  
  
When they had made that arrangement, Remus knew that Ginny would be perhaps mildly disappointed, but it was for the better, he realized. The last thing young Ginny needed was to become pregnant at the end of her sixth year, not simply because of the interruption in her studies or the effect it would have on her family and herself, but because of the impending war. And it simply wasn't a good time to start a family, not even if all of the other circumstances had been ideal. Not to mention that Remus would also have been very displeased if she acquired an ill reputation. He wanted to strangle some of his Slytherin students enough as it was.  
  
And then for him there was also the question of ethics. There were rules, mostly unspoken and unwritten ones at Hogwarts, that would certainly have discouraged such an intimate relationship between a professor and his sixth year student. But for Remus it was more than a question of mere rules. Ethical conduct meant a lot to him, and he tried to uphold certain standards. It was one thing to be in love with a student. The questions Ron had raised were another entirely. The simple emotion of love would not sway how he treated Ginny in class or affect the grades she received from him. His professional and personal life could be separated. But other things could possibly hamper even his good judgment, and Remus was aware of that and would never let it happen.  
  
With that thought Remus gave Ginny an affectionate kiss on the forehead and released her, chuckling as she reluctantly clambered to her feet and smoothed her robes. She understood the situation as well as he did.  
  
"I suppose I had better finish up with those papers," he said, standing and smiling at her.  
  
"And I should get back to the dormitories. I have some transfigurations' homework to do," she said with a small sigh.  
  
"Have a good evening then," said Remus, giving her a peck on the cheek and noting that she seemed to have an unusual amount of work to do in that class. "Minerva must be assigning an exceptional amount," he thought as she left quietly.  
  
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A/N: That was (mostly) a very silly chapter. I know. But it was fun to write.  
  
  
Pidgie: I hope this chapter was Ginny/Remus enough for you. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Sci-Fi Nut: *blushes* Thank you for the review!  
  
LadyTiffany: Thank you very much!  
  
Aine Deande: My favorite ship is the one I'm writing (and reading) at any given moment. I really appreciate all of your comments! Thanks!  
  
Enfleurage: That's exactly what I was going for! And I know what you mean about Snape sometimes being the only one punished. Most of the time I think Voldemort would be a little pissed at all of his followers (he doesn't exactly have the cream of the crop working for him, now does he? *cough* Crabbe and Goyle *cough*). Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Yeah, he's having a rough time of it. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
BLV: Evilness is definitely a word (or it should be). I'm glad you enjoyed the previous two chapters. Thanks for the review!  
  
auroraziazan: I think your Remus/Ginny concerns have been answered *grins*. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
hermia: I want to hurt Voldemort too, so we will have to see what happens there. I think your question was answer within this chapter. Thanks for the review!  
  
  



	5. In which Severus searches

Chapter Five  
  
In which Severus searches  
  
  
  
Severus had searched his chambers more thoroughly than he thought possible only to find no sign of the illusive notes that Voldemort believed the potions' master's predecessor had made regarding the demon world. If Hermione were not in the library studying, he might have asked her for assistance in the hitherto fruitless search through the things belonging to Professor Krohn, who had not had the opportunity to remove anything from the rooms at the end of his career, which had come to its sudden conclusion only a few weeks after Severus' career as a Death Eater. The aging professor had been killed in an attack in Hogsmeade just weeks before the beginning of the school term. His death had prompted Dumbledore to ask Severus to step in as potions' professor. In the bargain Severus had gained a safe place to sleep at night, Dumbledore could keep a closer watch upon his spy, and Snape's currency among the Death Eaters went up slightly.   
  
Severus had kept almost of all of his former head of house's books and so forth as the man had lost his family in the Grindelwald war earlier in the century and no one else laid claim to anything that had belonged to Krohn, except for his rather comfortable couch, which had mysteriously disappeared before Snape had moved into the dungeons. He suspected that one of his fellow professors had nabbed it for his or her common room. And he rather suspected Minerva because she would have been able to change its color so easily from green to red.  
  
Severus knew that his time was limited, that he needed to complete the search effort before he was called to the next meeting. He had no intention of divulging the most meager portion of information, knowing what the cost would be if Voldemort found a way to use the demons to his advantage or even set them loose upon the world. The war was no longer about purity of blood alone; it was a war of mindless hatred directed against all who opposed the Dark Lord, the muggle-born and pureblooded alike. And Severus fully expected his disobedience to cost him his life, but he would be certain that not a trace of the dark knowledge remained nevertheless.  
  
Then as Severus returned book after to book to his empty shelves, running his fingers almost lovingly over the spines of the well-worn tomes, his eyes had happened to fall upon the picture that hung over his writing desk. It was of a castle hidden in a deep and forbidding forest. The silvery gray of the castle and the deep, velvety green of the trees had matched the decor too well to remove it. And he rather fancied the idea that the castle was none other than the Akademie der Zauberei in the Black Forest in Krohn's native Germany. But as he stared at it that evening, Severus had the feeling that the painting was hiding something and that it had been perhaps enchanted in some way. He suspected that the reason he had not removed it was that warding spells, very subtle ones, had been placed on the picture to keep anyone from removing it or investigating the wall behind it. Even as those thoughts occurred to him, he felt a strange reluctance to disturb it.  
  
Walking over to the painting, he examined the frame after a moment of hesitation, running his fingers along the smooth wood, before gently removing it from the wall. He felt the mild repelling spell dissipate and fade altogether as the painting left the wall. Severus looked at the back of the picture for a moment before gently setting it on his writing desk with every intention of returning it to its original position when he was finished with his search.   
  
Turning his attention back to the wall, Severus frowned as he found himself looking at blank stone and nothing more. He cautiously touched it before drawing his wand. He was absolutely certain that the wall held a secret. The wards placed on the painting was enough to convince him of that.  
  
"_And-huljan!_" he said in a low murmur, pointing his wand at the wall as he cast a spell to reveal hidden things.   
  
It was not an incantation that would have been found in the standard book of spells for any year at Hogwarts, but Severus recalled hearing his old professor using spell words in an ancient Gothic tongue on more than one occasion. This one, he happened to remember, was the spell that revealed the secret cabinet that Krohn had kept in his office, which contained a bottle of fire whiskey and a few curiosities. The advantages of being a perfect, Severus noted, never seemed to end.  
  
The gray stone shimmered and disappeared, leaving a wooden panel behind. It had been cleverly disguised. An ordinary revealing spell would not have exposed the hidden panel. Krohn would have made certain of that. Severus tapped the mahogany board with one knuckle and then his wand, wondering how it was intended to be opened or removed. For a moment he contemplated blasting it. Then he realized that the man who had been the head of Slytherin house for more than forty years would have counted on that. At best it would do no good and at worst his spell would be reflected back upon the person casting it, but at twice the strength. Reynard Krohn had been crafty.  
  
Severus trailed the tip of his wand across the wood as he struggled to decide whether or not to cast an opening spell on the panel as though it were a locked door. There was an audible snick as his wand point touched a nearly imperceptible rough spot on the panel. It swung out slightly, and Severus caught the edge of it and pulled it open to reveal a pile of three aging, but neatly stacked parchments. His heart pounded as he removed them one by one from the small and secret vault.  
  
He took the scrolls to the couch and unrolled the first one to begin skimming its contents. But he already knew in his heart what information they contained. Could Krohn have known any deeper or darker secrets than the ones that allowed passage to and possibly even from the demon realm? Severus thought not.  
  
"_It is my intention to preserve knowledge that might otherwise be lost. Future generations may need to know how we have done what we have done in banishing Grindelwald to the realm that the Founders of this school designed only for demons. They may require this knowledge one day, so it must not be lost. Below are the ingredients and instructions for the banishing potion used in our efforts ..._"  
  
Snape read over the list of ingredients: monkshood, powdered dragon's horn, essence of belladonna, about half a dozen things found in his favorite cauldron cleaning solutions, and a few rather rare odds and ends. He made a mental note to find a different brand of cleaning products to help prevent any future accidents before taking up the second roll of parchment.  
  
"_Arcane theoretical texts from the twelfth century have suggested that the process that sealed the realm can be reversed under the right circumstances. These texts have since been destroyed for the greater good of the wizarding and muggle populations, both of whom could easily fall prey to the hoard of monsters if they were ever released upon the world again. But knowledge is power and should not be so easy cast aside. The gist of those texts are as follows ..._"  
  
The information was on the final scroll of parchment. There was a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as he read over the text. The theory seemed sound. Professor Krohn had certainly done his research properly. Actually, Severus thought he could see the hand of Albus Dumbledore in the project as well. That was never an easy thing to miss. Severus shivered as he realized how easily the barrier could be ruptured by a powerful wizard, especially one with a strong background in potions, alchemy, and dark magic. He rolled up the scroll immediately.  
  
Just that morning he had informed the headmaster of everything that had happened at the Death Eater meeting: the coming attack upon Hogwarts, Voldemort's orders, and the ultimatum he had given Severus regarding the information on the prison realm. Albus had informed him that he should not return, that given the threat, the risk was too great. Severus had disagreed.  
  
"We must know when the attack will come. Countless lives are at stake. Our preparations must be perfect if we hope to counter what Voldemort has planned. If I can find some scrap of useless information, anything to show him that I remain obedient, then we can gain a great advantage in the conflict," Severus had argued.  
  
Dumbledore put a hand on his young colleague's shoulder and answered, "Countless lives _might_ be spared, but yours would almost certainly be lost. Voldemort does not make idle threats. We both know this, Severus. I don't think our side could stand to lose you in that manner."  
  
He had appreciated the sentiments. Albus had always made him feel valuable and welcome whereas Severus often had seen, especially during the first days after the end of the previous war, merely another Death Eater, only another Dark Wizard staring back at him from the mirror every morning. But even then it had comforted him, and confused him as well, to know that at least one person could see more than that in him.   
  
Severus chuckled in irony and said quietly to himself as he gathered the scrolls, "And here I am at what is almost certainly the end of all this business and the end me as well, and I have found one more person who for some mysterious reason manages to see me as he does."  
  
He thought of Hermione for a moment as he tucked the documents into the sleeve of his robes, knowing that it was time to speak with Dumbledore again and discuss what would become of the parchments. But he already knew.  
  
  
When Severus entered the headmaster's office, the first thing he noticed was that Fawkes appeared to be nearing another Burning Day. To Severus that always signaled trouble as the most unpleasant portion of the phoenix's life cycle normally seemed to coincide with bad times: the middle of the Basilisk attacks, during the horrible nonsense from two years ago at the beginning of the war, and in midst of the first battle with Voldemort when a phoenix might have proved most useful. Fawkes looked at Severus with a rather doleful expression and seemed to sigh.  
  
Professor Dumbledore, who was seated at his desk skimming a copy of _The Daily Prophet_, glanced over at the bird and made a sympathetic sound before folding up the newspaper. Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, who had only acknowledged the return of Voldemort after the first assault on the school, were still not on good terms and therefore rarely sharing information. More could be learned by reading the paper than by trying to acquire information through official channels in the Ministry, and even unofficial channels sometimes, Severus suspected.  
  
"Severus, what can I do for you this evening?" questioned Professor Dumbledore, gesturing for him to have a seat.  
  
"I found what I have been searching for," he said, taking out the scrolls and placing them on the desk before sitting down heavily in one of the chairs.  
  
"I am not surprised," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. He did not unroll any of the parchments. It was not necessary. He knew what was written upon them.  
  
"I had hoped that Professor Krohn had exercised more common sense than this, but the man loved his work and the pursuit of knowledge," said Snape.  
  
"As do you," said Albus with an indulgent smile.  
  
"But I would have never secreted away information like this," Severus objected.  
  
"This was not always a secret, you know."  
  
Severus managed a thin smile and said, "Yes, some of it was even in _Hogwarts: A History_ until fifty years ago. That edition of the book was a great help during that little escapade a few weeks ago."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"But then Krohn comes along with his theoretical texts, new ideas and hypotheses, and - I shudder to think - possibly experiments, and almost a millennium of good and responsible wizardry goes down the drain," said Severus with a derisive snort.  
  
"Give Reynard a little more credit. His notes were not easy to find, or were they?" questioned Dumbledore.  
  
"They were well hidden," he conceded.  
  
"And I suppose I should tell you that he was not entirely to blame, though I did ask him to destroy any records."  
  
"Yes, I thought there was something familiar about the way in which this was done. Your fingerprints in the matter, if I may be so bold."  
  
"Always, Severus," Dumbledore nodded. "But it was his expertise that made what we did possible."  
  
"I never truly understood him. He was always like a man from another time, another century to me," he admitted.  
  
"And yet you seemed to grieve greatly when he died," Dumbledore observed.  
  
"He was not a brave man nor half so cunning as other people made him out to be, but he understood his students, even though the feeling was hardly ever mutual," said Severus. "He sent me to you when I knew I couldn't belong to the Dark anymore."  
  
"That he did, and I am still grateful for it."  
  
"Not half so grateful as I was then," said Severus.  
  
"I can well imagine," said Dumbledore, nodding slowly. "Did I ever tell you I was with him that day? The day he was killed?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Reynard was, as you said, never a very brave man. He did what was necessary and no more. He was the head of Slytherin house and understood its principles well. But, and I believe you can attest to this, Severus, he tried to steer his students away from the Dark Arts whether by hook or by crook. I cannot say how many of his other former students owe him their lives, but the number is not a small one," said Dumbledore in preface to his story.  
  
"I was walking with Minerva from Honeyduke's that evening. Most of the faculty had returned for the start of term and were taking advantage of the opportunity to shop in the village as it was a Saturday. One would think that after nearly eighteen years the memory of it would diminish, but I suppose there are things that we will remember for the rest of our lives.  
  
"There was the sound of several people apparating into the village some ways down the road. That was never a good sign in those days. The village just seemed to erupt in magic as several heavily robed and masked figures appeared on the square. I can never quite agree upon how many there were. Perhaps as many as a ten or as few as seven. It was a very bold strike. I must say that. Minerva and I drew our wands and began exchanging curses with two Death Eaters who had turned their attention in our direction. Not to boast, but they soon found themselves in quite a predicament.  
  
"The entire attack probably lasted ten minutes, and then they were gone. It was Agatha Sprout calling for me when I knew that something terrible had happened. She was white as a sheet, and not just anything could do that to her. I instructed Minerva to stay where she was and followed Sprout to the alley next to Gladrags Wizardwear. Poppy was already with him, and I could see it in her eyes that Reynard wasn't going to make it. He was calling for me with what little strength he had left," said Dumbledore.  
  
Severus watched as the expression in his eyes became rather sad and thoughtful. He waited for the headmaster to speak, but Albus was silent.  
  
"What had happened to him?" prompted Snape.  
  
"It was an experimental killing curse of some sort. Poppy explained later what it had done to him, but ... I can't quite recall," he answered.  
  
"That's all right."  
  
"Vector and Sinistra were standing near him too, but far enough away to give Poppy room to work, to make Reynard more comfortable. Anna looked incredibly pale and shaken. Vector was practically holding her up. She had been his student, if you remember, Severus. She graduated just two years ahead of you. Of course, Beatrice Vector and Krohn were practically contemporaries and as often as not rivals. Eight years apart in age, I believe. They later told me that Reynard had selflessly shielded them from the curse at the expense of his own life. Beatrice was incredulous, but Anna, one of his favorite students, had always known what he was capable of. She is always losing people she cares about in these wars, it seems," said Albus, shaking his head at thought of the young professor. "But that is to be expected," he said with a heavy sigh. "Do you know what his last words were, Severus?"  
  
"No," he replied quietly, almost unable to imagine calculating, impassive Krohn risking his life for two of his fellow professors, especially Gryffindor Vector.  
  
"'Be sure to offer my position to Snape.' That was exactly what he said before he closed his eyes and very quietly died."  
  
"You never mentioned this before."  
  
"Back then you would have blamed yourself."  
  
"Perhaps," said Severus.  
  
"Are you ready to deal with the issue at hand now?" questioned Dumbledore.  
  
"I believe I am," he nodded.  
  
"Then do what must be done."  
  
There had been no question in Severus' mind what had to be done with the dangerous documents. From the moment he removed them from the vault he had known. He gathered them from Albus' desk and tossed them into the nearby fireplace and pointed his wand.  
  
"_Incendio!_" he said in a firm, resolved voice, watching the scrolls burst into flames. It had been the only option. There was no where safe enough to keep such things, not from Voldemort.  
  
"Now I suppose we should discuss what will become of you, Severus," said Albus as they both watched the parchment burn to ashes.  
  
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A/N: For the record, I don't believe in burning books, but in a situation like this, it seemed like the most practical solution.  
  
  
Myranya: Oopsie! Thanks for catching that error for me (I can't count consistently), and thank you for reviewing!  
  
me: There will be more HG/SS. Thanks for the review!  
  
Serenity Raye: I was concerned that a lot of people wouldn't like the way I chose to handle Remus and Ginny's relationship. I really appreciate your comments about that (all of your comments, actually). Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
samson: Thank you!  
  
labrisa: Don't we all? Severus and Remus are obviously my favorite guys. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: *giggles* Thanks!  
  
maedayeve: Minerva's personal life ... That is a very interesting point. I'll have to give that some thought. There are lots of guys out there ... Harry and Ron will have parts in this later. And as for Sirius. Um, but I'll get back to you on that. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: Thank you!  
  
BLV: I'm glad you enjoyed the scene between Ron and Remus. I'm not really good at writing humor, but I like to take a stab at it sometimes. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Shelob: Thank you for the review!  
  
Isis Malfoy: I should plug myself more often, I guess. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	6. In which Severus and Hermione talk

Chapter Six  
  
In which Severus and Hermione talk  
  
  
  
Severus was sitting on the couch with an open book in his lap and a pensive expression on his face when Hermione arrived that evening. He smiled ever-so-slightly and laid the tome aside as she exited the floo, brushing off her robes out of habit. She looked exhausted, he observed, wondering how many hours she had spent in the library in preparation for her upcoming tests. Hermione was going to finish school at the top of her class. Severus was certain of that. He was forced to admit that she worked harder than any of his Slytherin students and seemed to enjoy it too.  
  
Severus made room for Hermione on the couch and put an arm around her, pulling her close to him.   
  
His discussion with Dumbledore concerning his future had gone as expected. The headmaster wanted him to ignore further summons from the Dark Lord, and Snape had again made his case for trying to talk Voldemort out of killing him at the next meeting in order to learn the exact date and time of the next assault. Severus knew better than anyone how slim his chances were. But it was his chance to take. Dumbledore had understood that and had given him the only thing that he had to give in that situation: a copy of the book of incantations regarding the enchanted exit mirrors. It was utterly useless for dark purposes, but it was something. Would it satisfy Voldemort? Severus wasn't certain, but he suspected that it wouldn't be enough.  
  
Hermione could tell by his silence, or more accurately the absence of snarky comments and so forth, and his firm grip on his shoulder that something was the matter. She had hoped to find him in a better mood. He had seemed subdued in potions' that morning, but she had chalked it up to the lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse. This was something more, she realized.  
  
"What's the matter?" Hermione asked him, taking his other hand and intertwining her fingers with his.  
  
"Nothing," he replied softly.  
  
"I hardly believe that, Severus."  
  
"Everything then?" he suggested with a low chuckle.  
  
"You aren't going to tell me, are you?" she questioned, wishing that he wasn't so private, so secretive, that he would just let down his defenses more often.  
  
She rested her head against his chest and felt him sigh quietly.  
  
"Hermione, do you really want to know? I think you would be happier ..."  
  
"Ignorance is _not_ bliss," she interjected.  
  
Severus looked down at her and nodded. There was a soft refrain from his youth that echoed through his mind with those words: knowledge is power. It had been said often enough. But whether for the purposes of good or ill, it quite frequently held true. He did not wish to keep Hermione powerless by withholding information from her nor did he want her to worry or suffer because of him. Which evil was the greater? He could not say for certain, but he did not think she would easily forgive him the first one.  
  
"I may not return from my next meeting," he informed her quietly.   
  
She stiffened in his arms and didn't say anything for a moment. Hermione had been afraid every time he had let her know that he would be going to one of those horrible gatherings, but he had always made some tacit statement indicating that he fully expected to return to her and even at what time. Her heart was racing as she groped for the appropriate words to say to him.  
  
"Then you ... you shouldn't go. You just shouldn't go," Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself.  
  
He kissed the top of her head and said, "I must. You know my role. You know what my job is for our side in this war."  
  
"Of course I know," she whispered, recognizing the logic of his argument and hating it at the same time. She gave a short laugh and removed her hand from his. "I was beginning to wonder if all my time in the library was a waste, but I suppose not," she said enigmatically, reaching into her robes. "I have a present for you, Severus, and I suppose now is as good of a time as any to give it to you."  
  
"A present?" he questioned, furrowing his brow.  
  
Hermione withdrew a gold pocket watch from within her robes and held it out to him.  
  
"It belonged to my maternal grandfather. He knew that my mother wouldn't have wanted it, so he passed it on to me instead with the intention, I believe, that it should find its way into other hands eventually," she explained. Severus understood what she meant; that she should give it to her husband and from him to their son. "It was just a muggle watch ... then I had an idea," she said, placing it in his hand.  
  
"An idea?" he questioned, closing his fingers around it almost absently.  
  
"I haven't just been studying for my Newts, you know," she said with a bit of a smile. "I realized ... after that first night ... that you put yourself in danger quite often. I wanted you to have an escape route. So I turned the watch into a port key. That was easy enough, I suppose, but I didn't want it to be set for a particular time, and that required more research than I thought it would to find a way to do what I wanted."  
  
"One moment," Severus interrupted. "It is a port key?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," she nodded.  
  
"To where?"  
  
"I'm getting to that part," she said almost impatiently. "I had to get a note from Professor McGonagall to take a look at a few texts in the restricted section of the library. Then I had to get some help from the ancient runes' professor. But," and she smiled with triumph as she spoke, "I think I managed to do what I set out to do."  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
"I made a port key that will only react to _your_ touch when you are either in pain or afraid. It might work with anger too, if it is considered a negative enough emotion. We could test always it," said Hermione thoughtfully. "And it will take you from where ever you are to here, your chambers, or at least it should," she added, remembering his original inquiry.  
  
Severus looked down at the watch he had clutched in his hand and marveled at the sophistication of the enchantments that Hermione had placed on it. The level of skill required for such an endeavor was far beyond what an ordinary seventh year student could have accomplished. In fact he rather suspected that many of his colleagues would be hard pressed to replicate what Hermione had done.  
  
"I wanted to give you something to keep you safe," she told him.  
  
"Hermione, I ... I am rendered speechless," said Severus, clutching the watch to his heart as he looked into her eyes.  
  
To make such a device was something from which Hermione would have derived great intellectual satisfaction, but that had not been her purpose in doing so. The reason she had spent hour upon hour in the library researching advanced spells was because she, when it came to Severus and his role, as he had put it himself, had felt helpless and very nearly powerless to do anything meaningful for him other than a few softly spoken healing charms. She wanted to protect him and keep him from harm, which had seemed impossible at first. Then one night she had taken the pocket watch from the bottom of her school trunk and had had an idea.  
  
"Just tell me that you will keep it with you," she said.  
  
"I will, Hermione, I promise," Severus told her, leaning down and kissing her gently to seal the oath.  
  
As he began to pull away, Hermione slipped one hand behind his neck to keep him close enough for another, more passionate kiss. In a moment her fingers were entangled in his hair, and Severus had managed to tuck the pocket watch into his robes before pulling her into his arms. He closed his eyes and savored the blissful contact, and the hunger in her kiss. He would never have guessed that she was so passionate, but there was a lioness beneath her bookworm exterior, and he struggled to keep up with her.  
  
"Severus," she said as they both reluctantly pulled away, "do you think I could stay here tonight? Professor McGonagall doesn't know that I've come down here ..."  
  
"Hermione," he said with an amused smile, touching her lips to silence her. "I would like nothing better than for you to stay here with me forever ..."  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise as he said those words. Severus was never overly expressive. He could show his affection for her more easily than he could say it. And she thought she understood why.  
  
"But I don't believe for an instant that Minerva doesn't know," he finished, his lips quirking slightly into a more genuine smile, though a rather rueful one as well.  
  
Severus looked away for a moment, wondering if he should regret part of those hastily said words. Who was he to talk of forever when each day was filled with potential peril and possibly death?  
  
"When school ends ..."  
  
"And the war is over ..." he nodded.  
  
"Then we can stay together ..."  
  
"Until the end of time, my love," he said, gathering her into his arms again and burying his face in her curly hair. He fervently wished that those words could be true and not just wishful thinking.  
  
Hermione felt a tightness in her throat as she clung to him too, willing herself not to cry, if not simply for the sake of not crying, then for Severus' sake so that perhaps the future would not seem so bleak or unhappy. She wanted to be strong for him. She didn't know when Voldemort would summon him again nor was she certain that he would be safe, despite her efforts to make sure of that. She only knew that they had to make the most of the moments that they had.  
  
"Hermione, I want you to do something for me," he said after a few moments.  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
"Will you do what I ask of you, Hermione?" Severus questioned, stroking her back as much for his own comfort as for hers.  
  
"Yes," she said, trusting him completely. She believed that he was about to send her away for the night, but she also felt that it was something more.  
  
"Your friends. Potter and Weasley. I want you to make up with them," he told her.  
  
Hermione frowned and pulled away from him just far enough to see the expression on his face. He seemed serious, but it was an odd request coming from him.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"You need your friends, Hermione. All of them. Even the ones I don't necessarily approve of. And, quite naturally, they need you as well," he explained. A hint of mirth touched his lips as he added, "And besides, I would hate to be the one to break up the band."  
  
"Harry and I are doing all right. But Ron ... I told you what he said, didn't I? About you and about Viktor?"  
  
"In perfect detail," he nodded. "But neither Krum, if I am any judge of character, nor I would want to see you divided over those words during this time of danger. Make up now, Hermione, and hex him with boils when the war is over."  
  
Hermione chuckled and said, "Because you've asked and because I've already said yes, I will try to make up with Ron, but I don't think it will be easy."  
  
"That is all I can ask," he said.  
  
Hermione sighed quietly and said, "Then I suppose it's time for us both to turn in."  
  
"Yes, I must not make it a habit to keep you out after hours," Severus agreed.  
  
"Do you expect _him_ to call for you soon?"  
  
"Yes, perhaps tomorrow night or the night after," he said as she slowly rose from the couch and stretched, trying to hide the troubled look in her eyes without good results. "But don't think about it," he said.  
  
"It's hard not to."  
  
"Of course," he said quietly as she stepped into the hearth.  
  
"Good-night," she said with a soft smile before disappearing.  
  
"Sweet dreams," he whispered in return before taking the watch from his pocket and examining it again with no less awe than before.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A/N: I have to admit that the port key idea was somewhat inspired by Scarlet's "A Golden Sickle" (which is an excellent story).  
  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Thank you!  
  
hermia: Hmm ... I bet a lot of the younger girls talk about Ginny behind her back. Thanks for the review!  
  
Aine Deande: Thank you very much for the nearly overwhelming reviews!  
  
LadyTiffany: Me too. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: It is always very pleasing to hear nice things about original characters. Krohn is pretty much in all my stories (there are two exceptions, I think). I don't like re-inventing the guy who had Snape's job before him everytime I write something. Lazy, lazy. I never really considered the part with Fawkes foreshadowing. Looking at that again, perhaps I was laying it on a bit thick. I'm seriously working on the AD/MM. It isn't working right at the moment. Thanks for the review!  
  
jasmine Black: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	7. In which everyone acts impulsively

Chapter Seven  
  
In which everyone acts impulsively  
  
  
  
Hermione tried to shake off her distress and worry as she walked back to the Gryffindor common room from Professor McGonagall's chambers, from which the professor was still conspicuously absent. She did not think about that for long, turning her attention rather to Severus' request that she patch things up with Ron Weasley. If he had asked her to brew a complicated potion or find an obscure text in the library, she would have begun the task with zeal. But what Severus had asked of her was very difficult, not only because she was still a little peeved at Ron, but because he could hold a grudge longer than anyone she had ever known. And he was very good at giving someone the silent treatment too. Hermione wondered as she spoke the password and stepped into the common room if Severus had any idea what he was asking her to accomplish.  
  
"Of course he does, and he is probably right. All of us will need each other before this is over," she thought, glimpsing Ron and Harry in a quiet corner playing chess.  
  
Harry looked up from the board and smiled when he saw Hermione standing near the common room entrance. She nodded toward Ron. Harry regarded her almost coolly for a moment, glancing at Ron who was stooped low over the chess board in concentration. She could have sworn that he knew exactly what she wanted as he nodded toward an empty chair across the room.  
  
She watched as Harry very methodically lost the game. Ron was grinning like a Cheshire cat when it was over. She heard Harry say something about playing Exploding Snap next and having to get something from their dormitory first. Ron nodded in agreement and leaned back in his chair to take another satisfied look at the board. Harry looked toward Hermione and jerked his head toward the empty chair. That was her cue.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath as she left the comfortable chair by the hearth where she had been waiting and walked over to the seat that Harry had vacated for her. This was not going to be easy.   
  
She sat down quietly, and Ron looked up from the chess pieces. For a moment he was smiling, then his face fell as he realized that it wasn't Harry who had just taken a seat.  
  
"Ron, I think we should talk," she said quietly.  
  
"Do you now? Got something to say now, have you?" he said coldly.  
  
"Please, I just want to say that I'm sorry ..." she began to tell him.  
  
Ron flushed a bright crimson as he angrily said, "A bit late, isn't it? Or did your new boyfriend dump you? Trying to put everything right again? Well, it just isn't that easy."  
  
"Ron, stop being childish. I am trying to apologize to you," said Hermione in a quiet hiss as other students in the common room began looking in their direction.  
  
"So now I'm childish too? That's just fine," he said, raising his voice as he noticed her discomfort.  
  
"Please ..." she started to say, flushing with a mixture of frustrated anger and embarrassment.  
  
Ron slid his chair back and came to his feet.  
  
"We've got nothing to say to each other, Hermione," he told her, looking down at her before walking away.  
  
She buried her face in her hands as she listened to him tramp up the stairs to the boys' seventh year dormitory. He was so unreasonable. Or else had she wounded him that deeply? Hermione wasn't certain. With Ron's temper it was never exactly easy to say whether the slight had been that severe or whether it was merely the more unpleasant aspect of his personality showing through. In any event the quest that Severus had sent her upon seemed impossible. She left her seat with a sigh to return to her own dormitory to do some reading in private and perhaps to go bed a bit early.  
  
  
Harry was waiting for Ron at the top of the stairs, blocking the entrance to the room they shared with the other young men of their year, except Neville, who was a prefect and had his own room. Harry slowly shook his head as he looked at his best friend, who was still red in the face from his fight with Hermione. Having overheard the two of them, Harry was not pleased. In his opinion Ron was just being stubborn and unreasonable. He knew that both of them had said things to each other that they did not mean, and since Hermione was willing to swallow her pride and say that she was sorry, Ron should do the same. They had all been friends too long for something like this to come between them.  
  
"Ron, you are being a complete and utter prat. Go back and tell her that you're sorry too," said Harry.  
  
"Or what you'll do what about it exactly?" asked Ron, who was still half a head taller than his friend, almost menacingly.  
  
"I don't make threats. Idle or otherwise. Don't you see how silly you're being, Ron?"  
  
"She says I'm childish, and now you're saying I'm silly. This is just perfect," said Ron, shaking his head. "Get out of the way, Harry. I want to go lie down or something."  
  
"All right. I will ... if you promise to tell me what's really the matter," said Harry.  
  
Ron looked at him for a moment and then glanced back down the stairs before answering, "Fair enough, but you can't tell _her_ about it."  
  
"Good," said Harry with a nod, opening the door and gesturing for Ron to step inside.  
  
The dormitory was empty, despite the rather late hour. Most of their contemporaries were involved in a rather heated game of Gobstones or testing samples of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Harry closed the door and observed Ron as he went to stand by the window. He thought he knew what Ron was going to say, but he wanted to hear it for himself to be certain.  
  
"I was already in love with her before Viktor Krum came along, did you know that?" Ron asked him, glancing over his shoulder as Harry took a seat on his bed.  
  
"Yeah, I remember," said Harry with a quiet chuckle.  
  
"Then Krum gets himself killed."  
  
"I remember that too."  
  
"I was wrong about that bloke. I admitted it a hundred times, to her, to you, to myself. And she really loved him, didn't she?"  
  
Ron was looking at him expectantly, as though he thought Harry knew the real answer to that question.  
  
"Krum, I guess, was her first love," Harry nodded.  
  
"Well, she was mine," said Ron softly. "But I couldn't very well tell her that right after he bloody went and died, now could I?"  
  
"No, I suppose not ..."  
  
"Right, so I waited. I just never knew when the right time would be."  
  
"Maybe there never is a right time, Ron."  
  
"I believe it. She's gone what? Three days ... with Snape? And comes back head over heels for him? Knowing what he is and what he's capable of and everything? Harry, it just doesn't make any sense," said Ron almost plaintively.  
  
"So that's what this is all about. You're jealous," said Harry, nodding as his suspicions were confirmed. He didn't feel like debating Snape's character at the moment since it wasn't the real issue.  
  
"Maybe I am."  
  
"And you're taking it all out on Hermione. Not very fair, is it?"  
  
"I suppose you think that she's being perfectly fair then," said Ron shortly.  
  
"She's in love with him, Ron."  
  
"Harry, you've never really been in love yourself before, have you? I mean, you fancied Cho Chang a bit, but ..."  
  
"Maybe not," shrugged Harry before Ron could continue.  
  
"So you've got no right to say."  
  
"Maybe I don't exactly, but she is our friend, and if you _really_ love her, you've got even less right to treat her like this when she has a chance of being happy."  
  
"Harry ..."  
  
"You know I'm right," he said, looking Ron straight in the eye.  
  
Ron shook his head and said, "I don't know, Harry. Maybe you are and maybe you aren't. But after what she said ..."  
  
"You knew that bringing Krum into that argument was stupid and selfish," Harry shot back almost instantly.  
  
Ron flushed red for a moment before nodding reluctantly.  
  
"Yeah," he said softly.  
  
"So are you going to accept her apology and apologize to her?" Harry questioned.  
  
"I'll ... I'll give it a try, but not tonight. You know me better than anyone. If I went back down there, my temper ..."  
  
"Of course," Harry agreed, feeling very relieved that Ron was starting to behave sensibly.  
  
"But I still don't like Hermione seeing _him_."  
  
"You don't have to, Ron."  
  
~  
  
Minerva looked up into the night sky and sighed softly into the cool air, shivering ever-so-slightly. A warm arm slipped around her shoulders. She leaned closer to the source of the comfort and warmth, but kept her eyes upon the gently twinkling stars. They were very beautiful, especially looking at them from the serene and romantic top of the Astronomy Tower. A soft chuckle in her ear made her smile.  
  
"What ever is it, Albus?" she questioned, turning her head and looking into his blue eyes, which were every bit as twinkling as the stars.  
  
She had always loved his eyes. They were almost always full of hope, laughter, and a little mischief. Those eyes had made her feel so safe and so much more confident in her youth. Then as an adult she had always found more strength in them than in any words ever uttered to her. Now she saw love in them too. And it was a love so powerful and deep that it nearly took her breath away.  
  
"I imagined that we would have had to chase more than a few students out of here to have this place to ourselves after-hours. It's rather odd that it should be vacant tonight," he commented.  
  
"I don't know, Albus. I think the students have found more creative places to rendezvous these days," she said.  
  
"We are a bit old-fashioned, aren't we?" he chuckled softly.  
  
"Perhaps," she conceded, slipping her arm around him too as a chilly late spring breeze blew around them. For a moment she considered that perhaps it was the cold that was keeping the young witches and wizards indoors.  
  
"It seems very peaceful up here, doesn't it, Minerva?" he asked after a quiet moment.  
  
"Yes," she agreed, watching a wisp of cloud pass over the waning moon.  
  
"Minerva, I have something I want to ask you," said Albus, taking a deep breath.  
  
Her heart fluttered for a moment. She knew that he had asked her up to the tower as something of a date. Unless the rather revealing conversation in her rooms the previous evening was also counted as such, this was their first, though to be fair it didn't feel like it. It felt as though it were merely the continuation of something they had had a long time ago and not something completely new. And it felt right.  
  
"Yes, Albus?" she prompted.  
  
"This is rather sudden, but I was wondering, if we both make it through this war ..."  
  
"Don't talk like that. It's morbid," Minerva scolded quietly as she shivered slightly.  
  
Albus pulled her closer and lifted her chin so that she would look at him. Her dark eyes were filled with a startled sort of sadness. It was the look of a woman who knew that war was coming, that war was upon them, raging everywhere around them, and could at any moment claim those that she loved and held dear. He smiled softly and nodded.  
  
"All right. We talk about the war and death enough in the course of our preparations and our work. We can leave the latter portion of that out of this," he agreed.  
  
"Thank you," she said as the emotion faded from her eyes, leaving her looking only somewhat tired and a bit stern, as was usual for Professor McGonagall, especially since the beginning of the war.  
  
"As I was saying, if the end of the war permits it ..." and here he looked to her for approval. Minerva merely nodded slightly and indicated that he should continue. "Would you, Minerva McGonagall, consider ... becoming my wife?"  
  
She just stared at him for a moment, her mind suddenly feeling like an out of control Bludger as memories of all the years that she had loved him in secret whisked through her brain. All of the years that she had thought her feelings were merely a school girl's unrequited fascination with a handsome and caring professor. All the years as colleagues who worked side by side, sharing plentiful laughter in the good times and even a few tears in the bad times. All the long years of close friendship ... and unspoken, undeclared love.  
  
"This is quite sudden," she said breathlessly. "But then, I mean, we have known each other a long time," said Minerva, shaking her head to clear it.  
  
"Yes, a very long time indeed," he concurred, looking expectantly into her wide eyes.  
  
"Albus, are you sure? Or are you just saying this to give me something to look forward to? To cheer me up? I know I haven't exactly been at my best lately morale-wise, but if you're just saying this ..." she began quickly.  
  
He touched her lips gently to silence her.  
  
"Minerva, have you ever known me to be insincere?" he questioned almost sternly.  
  
"No," she answered, an odd lump forming in her throat.  
  
"You are my best friend, Minerva, and have been since you were sixteen years old. I am not asking this out of mere caprice. I am asking you because I love you and because at long last, the time seems right," he explained, echoing her own feelings regarding their finally blossoming relationship.  
  
"Yes, I think I understand that," she said, acknowledging the last part of his statement and trying to blink away her tears.  
  
"Then, if it is not the height of impertinence, I will ask you that question again. Minerva, would you marry me?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, managing a teary-eyed smile.  
  
"Then I suppose a kiss is order," he said, leaning toward Minerva and drawing her closer into his arms.  
  
Minerva closed her eyes as they truly kissed for the first time in many years. For a moment she felt young again, younger and more alive than she had since the war had begun. And it was wonderful. She was more certain than she had ever been, and Minerva had always been quite certain, that she loved Albus, even if until recently she had been equally certain that he would never know and that he could never love her in return, at least not as anything more than a close friend. But his kiss told her that she had been wrong, quite wrong.  
  
Over the years Albus had toyed with the idea of kissing her spontaneously, but knew that prim and stern Minerva McGonagall would not have reacted at all positively to that. And he was too much of a gentleman to try such a thing anyway, even knowing what he knew about that day in late April of sixth her year. He wanted to make up for those years, which had not truly been lost because they had always been together, but might have been better, sweeter, if things had been different.  
  
"I love you, Minerva," he whispered as he pulled away.  
  
"I know," she replied. "And ... I love you too, Albus," she said, wrapping her arms around him and wishing that the moment would never end.  
  
They stood there in silence together as time seemed to stand still around them.  
  
"Albus, why did you ask me tonight?" she questioned, resting her head against his chest and looking up into his eyes, which were fixed upon the bright moon over her shoulder.  
  
"The pace of the war has quickened. Something told me that this might be the last night of peace we have before the end of it all. As I said, the time seemed right. Perhaps not the most romantic if reasons. Does that disappoint you, Minerva?"  
  
"No, it's just that it was rather sudden," she shrugged.  
  
"Oh, yes, I couldn't agree more."  
  
"But then ... once you put your mind to something ..." Minerva chuckled.  
  
Albus was about to reply when they heard the sound of quiet voices echoing up the stairwell that led down from the tower. Students' voices, Minerva guessed, pursing her lips slightly. Albus merely chuckled and drew his wand. He pointed it at the closed door behind them and uttered a quiet repelling spell.  
  
"That should do it. I fully intend to keep this place to ourselves until we decide to leave," he told her, tucking the wand away.  
  
The voices reached the door. Minerva, whose hearing was rather good, caught a few words. It seemed that one of the two, who sounded suspiciously like Neville Longbottom, suddenly remembered that he had an essay due in charms' class and had to get back to his dormitory. The female voice that followed reminded Minerva of Lavender Brown. She pursed her lips. It was certainly not their night to patrol the corridors.  
  
"Gryffindor prefects out after hours without permission! I should have a word with them," she said, but didn't budge an inch.  
  
"Well, if they manage to get back to the tower without being caught, it will save Gryffindor House a few points," he said.  
  
"More than a few. They should know better."  
  
"Don't let it spoil the moment, Minerva," said Albus quietly, touching her hair.  
  
"I won't," she said, smiling.  
  
"You should wear your hair down again. It was always very fetching, you know," he told her.  
  
"It was always getting in the way," she said as he began letting her hair down for her.  
  
Minerva didn't protest. She found the gesture rather touching. It had been many years since she had worn her hair any other way. Albus ran his fingers through her hair and smiled in satisfaction as the wind blew it away from her face.  
  
"Quite lovely. As always," he said.  
  
"You remember why I started wearing up, don't you?" she questioned.  
  
"Oh, yes, one could hardly forget a twenty-five-year-old witch with - what color was it? - brilliant pink hair racing through the dungeons. I was very lucky to have witnessed that," he said with a distinct twinkle in his eyes that nothing could mask.  
  
"It was the only time I ever substituted for Professor Krohn," she defended.  
  
"You accidentally dipped your hair in a cauldron of Harold Potter's mystery solution, didn't you?"  
  
"That boy ..." she said, shaking her head almost fondly. "And the two that have come after him ... no different," Minerva sighed.  
  
"Well, let us hope that this one, that Harry, is a little different," he said, the laughter fading from his voice as he stepped toward the parapet and leaned against it.  
  
"Yes," she agreed, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Soon then?"  
  
"Very soon, if I may rely on Severus' assessment of the situation, and I believe that I may."  
  
"Of course," she said softly.  
  
"Voldemort will be coming himself this time. Severus has not said as much, but I can sense that for myself. He comes for Harry and perhaps for me. This will be my last great task. Then, if we are successful, perhaps then I may rest ..."  
  
"Albus ..." said Minerva in a quick and cautionary tone.  
  
"My dear?" he asked, turning to look at her with his piercing blue eyes.  
  
She was suddenly aware of how heavy the burden that he bore truly was and wished in vain to share it with him, to ease the load, but knowing that it was not her place, not yet, no matter the amount of love between them. She squeezed his shoulder and tried to smile.  
  
"Perhaps we should go inside. It's becoming chilly, and very late," she said.  
  
"Yes, of course," Albus agreed, smiling and offering her his arm.  
  
She studied him for a moment before taking it and following him back inside the castle.  
  
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A/N: I'm having trouble uploading and stuff. Sorry about that.  
  
  
BLV: The question about the phoenix was a good one. I checked a couple of places on the web and got a lot of different answers (including 500 years and 1461 - very odd number), but I couldn't find anything from an HP source, except from COS when Dumbledore told Harry that it was 'about time' that Fawkes had his Burning Day. It seemed like it was something he had seen before (so at maximum that would make it every 145 years or so). But then Fawkes is a grown phoenix again (right?) by the end of the school year (6 months). So how long is its life cycle? I don't know. But thanks for bringing that up and for reviewing!  
  
Tevkins: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: Thank you!  
  
LadyTiffany: No problem. Thanks for the review!  
  
Pidgie: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Luna Writer: Thanks!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Hermia: Thank you!  
  
  



	8. In which Severus goes to another meeting

Chapter Eight  
  
In which Severus goes to another meeting  
  
  
  
Severus had been plagued with a peculiar and heightened feeling of dread and forbidding all afternoon, since the end of his last class of the day when Crabbe and Goyle had given him an unusual deferential nod on their way out, as though they knew somehow that something was going to happen. Perhaps, he thought, their fathers had given them instructions. Severus was almost certain that they were full fledged Death Eaters, initiated either when he had been indisposed, or in the demon realm, or in secret with only Voldemort and their fathers present. He wished that Dumbledore would find a pretext for expelling or even turning them over to the Ministry of Magic, which was unlikely given current relations between the school and the Ministry.  
  
It was half an hour before dinner when the summons came in the form of a painful burning of the Dark Mark on his left arm. Severus found some satisfaction in the fact that it did not catch him by surprise. He merely waited for the discomfort to subside and began gathering the things that he needed. He examined the book Dumbledore had given him, a copy of an ancient text on the demon world that was of no use to Voldemort or his sinister plans, for a second time before tucking it under his arm. Then he reached into his pocket and made certain that the port key Hermione had made for him was there. The cold metal brushed his fingertips and for a moment he felt just a little less afraid. Then he remembered where he was going.  
  
As he stepped toward the door, Severus' eyes drifted toward the clock and he realized that if Hermione did not see him at dinner, she would be worried. He summoned a piece of parchment and a quill to leave her a note. He smiled grimly at what he was about to do. He was leaving his beloved a note as though he were simply going to the grocer's or down to the pub in Hogsmeade and not to ... well, some things were best not dwelt upon.  
  
"_Dear Hermione, I have gone out for the evening. I trust I need not say where. No matter what happens, remember that I love you and _- here he hesitated - _always will. Please study for your Newts tonight and don't wait up for me. Yours, Severus._"  
  
He sealed the parchment with a simple spell and left it on the table by the sofa, knowing that Hermione would find it when she came to look for him. Severus smiled sadly at that thought and left his rooms to walk to the best place from which to apparate, which given the time of day was the road to Hogsmeade just outside the school entrance.  
  
~  
  
  
Severus' private chambers seemed cold and empty when Hermione stepped out of the floo. She just knew that he had gone. But she thrust aside the horrible feeling that he wasn't coming back and sat down heavily on the couch before starting a fire in the hearth. It always seemed to be too cold in the dungeons in general and in Severus' rooms in particular. He had once commented that he liked the cold and had summoned a blanket for her instead of lighting a fire in the hearth, which he only put to use in the coldest days of winter.  
  
Harry had known without asking where she was going when she left dinner early, and Hermione fancied that she saw Ron look either a little disgusted or angry as she left. He still wasn't speaking to her, but Harry had advised her to give him a little more time to adjust and sort out his feelings. Hermione chuckled and wondered when Harry had become so sensitive or how. She suspected that it had something to do with Remus Lupin, whom she knew was a constant source of advice for Harry, and with someone who had been lost during that first battle.  
  
"Gone, but not forgotten," she murmured, watching the fire crackle magically in the hearth before closing her eyes and allowing the memories to sweep over her.  
  
_"Sirius!" she heard Harry scream as the two of them dragged Neville toward the castle doors.   
  
Hermione looked over her shoulder and saw Snuffles dart after something that looking like a small gray-black shadow in the smoke and disarray before entrance of Hogwarts and amid the battlefield. Harry had nearly dropped Neville.  
  
"Must get him to Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione reminded Harry, looking at their pale companion who had been subjected to the Cruciatus curse and, perhaps mercifully, a stunning spell. They were all only sixteen and too young to be experiencing what was happening around them.  
  
Robed figures in masks hovered the edge of her field of vision. Dumbledore and Remus Lupin were holding them back along with Professor Sinistra. The other professors were near the Dark Forest with Hagrid, fighting their own battles there. Students were everywhere, mostly sixth and seventh years who could not be held back.  
  
Hermione watched Sirius in Animagus form disappeared into the fog produced by dozens of different spells, some blasting spells, some fire spells stronger than Incendio, not knowing then that it would be the last time that Harry saw his godfather alive ever again.   
  
But at least Sirius had managed to kill Pettigrew._  
  
Hermione shivered as she remembered that day. She had not returned to the battlefield, choosing instead to remain in the hospital wing to help care for the wounded. Madam Pomfrey had needed all the assistance she could get. But Hermione had always wished that she could have been there with Harry later when he finally caught up to his godfather, when he had found him.   
  
"Who will we lose this time?" she wondered as she glanced toward Severus' bedroom.   
  
After a moment her eyes came to rest upon the end table at her elbow and she noticed a sealed scroll laying there. She lifted it and felt the magic in it come to life, unrolling the parchment for her, its rightful recipient. Her heart pounded as she realized that Severus had left the note for her.  
  
She read the hastily written, but nonetheless heartfelt words that had been penned there and rolled the scroll up again. She was torn between tears and laughter as she returned the parchment to its place on the table.  
  
"Study for my Newts? While you're out there ... going through Merlin knows what? Severus, you should know me better than that," she whispered, shaking her head.  
  
She had not been neglecting her studies, but she wasn't about to return to the Tower without seeing him and knowing the he was all right. She wondered if he would be and felt her breath hitch slightly.  
  
"He has to be," she told herself, trying to keep all of her worries and her fear at bay. "There's no reason that he shouldn't be. Severus is clever and knows about these things, and he has the port key that I made for him. No reason he shouldn't be able to pull off his ruse tonight and come out of it no worse than usual."  
  
And with that last thought she grimaced, remembering what the 'usual' entailed and decided whether Severus wanted her to wait or not was immaterial. She was going to stay put until he returned, even if it meant waiting for him all night.  
  
~  
  
  
When Severus apparated, he found himself standing on a windswept moor that was just turning from winter brown to the soft gray-green of spring. It was not an especially cheering sight. He had half expected to find himself, after touching the Mark, outside the familiar dungeon where Lord Voldemort normally assembled his followers. It was not a good sign that Voldemort had chosen to conduct this meeting elsewhere.   
  
Severus turned when he heard quiet voices behind him. Several Death Eaters were placing additional wards upon the location. He caught a word of an incantation on the breeze: _anti- appareo_. The spell was an anti-apparition ward upon the stone circle around which several of the Death Eaters stood. They were preparing a space within which to torture him securely. Severus was not surprised. The idea made him want to leave, to run away, but he knew he could not do that just yet.  
  
As one of the masked and robed figures completed his portion of the wards, he left the circular area and walked toward Severus, who was certain that it was Lucius Malfoy who came to greet him.  
  
"You came," the Death Eater said with a note of unpleasant surprise in his voice.  
  
Whether it was his manner of dress or posture that gave him away so easily to all of them, Severus could not say. He had often been instructed to remove his mask in their midst, stripped of his anonymity because it pleased the Dark Lord to make him more vulnerable than the rest. Perhaps because of his suspected betrayal back during the last years of Voldemort's reign.  
  
"Of course," said Severus, adjusting the book under his arm.  
  
"Our lord awaits you then," he said, gesturing toward the hideous form of a man in black robes who sat lounging upon one of the stones and watching his followers preparing the wards or standing impassively in the gaps between the hunks of stone.  
  
Voldemort seemed to smile, and it was an ugly and unwholesome grin, as they stepped into the circle and approached him, with Malfoy walking behind Severus. Why Malfoy thought that Severus would flee then, he could not even fathom.  
  
"I have found something for you, my lord," said Severus, keeping his tone even and neutral through many years of practice.  
  
He held out the magically copied book to Voldemort, who accepted it without a word. Severus did not look around, but he could sense the other Death Eaters filling in the circle, closing it in while they awaited the pronouncement of his fate. He merely watched as Voldemort flipped through the text. His expression could not be interpreted. Time seemed to grind to a halt as the Dark Lord examined his gift. There was always a chance ...  
  
Then Voldemort closed the book again and looked up at Severus with his eerie red eyes and asked, "This was the best you could do, Severus?"  
  
"Yes, my lord," he replied, clenching his hands at his side to steel his nerves. He wanted to reach into his pocket, but knew the moment was inopportune. Voldemort or Malfoy would have had him on his knees in an instant if he even seemed to be reaching for his wand.  
  
"I thought we had an understanding. Krohn's notes, Severus. Where are they?" asked Lord Voldemort.  
  
"There were none," he replied.  
  
"All of my servants were disloyal to a degree in my absence, but none have been stupid enough to be disobedient since my return. I thought better of you, Severus," said Voldemort before turning toward Malfoy and saying, "You know my intentions regarding Severus and my instructions for this eventuality. Carry them out."  
  
The stunning spell was spoken before Severus could speak or react.  
  
  
The darkness and forgetfulness were brief. The whisper of a spell, Ennervate, echoed softly through his mind as he opened his eyes. He was lying upon his back beneath the overcast and dismal sky in the middle of the circle. Someone had removed his mask and thrown back his hood. He knew instinctively that the sport was about to begin. He turned his head to the side and saw Voldemort upon his perch, fingering his wand almost idly and smirking slightly. What did he have in mind? The other Death Eaters had their wands raised. Severus took a deep breath as the one to Voldemort's left lowered his wand into position. He scarcely had time to steel himself.  
  
"_Crucio!_"  
  
The spell was unleashed with tremendous force, unregulated and unpracticed. It was by the hand of a novice that he was being tortured. It had none of the Dark Lord's flair and consistency nor any of his chief lieutenant's subtlety or hidden strength. Perhaps it was Goyle who cast the spell. Not, of course, that Severus could mull over such things as his body convulsed unwillingly in pain. His only thought was to find the pocket wherein he had stashed the pocket watch port key, his only means of escape.  
  
"Next," said the languid voice of Voldemort as the Cruciatus curse began to dissipate.  
  
"_Crucio!_" someone spoke in a dull voice.   
  
If the first had been Goyle, then this was Crabbe. Severus choked back a cry at the heavy-handed application of the unforgivable curse. One would suspect that the caster of the curse was having very little fun with it. Almost as though they were bored and merely passing the time.  
  
But Severus' hand would not obey him. The pain was too much to retain such precise control over his body movements. He could not get his involuntarily clenched hand into his robes. Panic was beginning to overwhelm his mind already. He willed himself to remain disciplined, but in the face of such agony it was like trying to halt a moving train by standing in its path.  
  
"Next," ordered Voldemort, his voice having a vaguely amused tone to it.  
  
"Yes, this would amuse him." thought Severus, reaching for his pocket as he gasped for breath, single-minded in his determination to get to the port key.  
  
"_Crucio!_" spoke the familiar voice of his old school friend, Lucius Malfoy.  
  
This sensation was not unfamiliar. Severus gritted his teeth together and cursed his own weakness as he trembled in silent anguish that was slow to diminish or fade. Lucius could control the curse for maximum effectiveness that was second only to Lord Voldemort himself. For the briefest instant his consciousness fluttered, almost leaving him, but not quite. Lucius had called the kind of pain that he could produce exquisite. Perhaps this was the sensation he meant.  
  
"Perhaps if you cried out, dear Severus, the pain would lessen," said a soft purring voice, in which he detected only the barest hint of strain.  
  
Severus vowed silently not to give Malfoy the satisfaction even as his control began to slip. Something was beginning to tug at the edge of his intellect already.  
  
"Madness?" he wondered silently, twisting upon the cold ground as he struggled against the curse to no good effect.  
  
"Next," Severus heard sometime later. There was approval in that voice.  
  
"_Crucio!_" spoke a voice that he could not quite place.  
  
His mind was beginning to slip. He was almost certain that he could not escape. All of her work on his behalf had been in vain. All for nothing. He would never see her again. Nor ever touch her again.  
  
Severus cried out not in pain, but in grief and frustration.  
  
And in response he heard only laughter.  
  
~  
  
  
Harry looked up from his Defense Against the Dark Arts text and closed his eyes as his scar began to hurt. He touched it and winced as the pain spread. Something was not right. Voldemort was doing something incredibly foul to someone. He forced his eyes open as he felt a hand on his arm.  
  
"All right there, mate?" asked Ron nervously.  
  
"My scar is hurting again," Harry muttered, closing his book.  
  
"Never a good sign," Ron remarked, growing a touch pale at the thought of what You-Know-Who might be doing. Muggle torture? Attacking innocent people somewhere. "You want to see Madam Pomfrey? Tell the headmaster?" he asked Harry.  
  
"I ... I think I know what this is about," said Harry after a moment as he remembered that Snape had not been at dinner and realized that Hermione had not returned to the common room or the dormitories. His hands trembled slightly as he thought, "He's gone them, and they're killing him right now."  
  
"You do?" questioned Ron.  
  
"Yeah, and I think I should see Professor McGonagall," said Harry, leaving his seat and still clutching at his scar.  
  
Ron considered the statement for a moment before he said, "So it's about Snape then."   
  
He could put two and two together as well as anyone. And he didn't like it. The potions' master was hardly Harry's responsibility. He had enough things to be worried about without that greasy git being one of them  
  
Harry just nodded and walked across the common room to the portrait hole and left. He had no intention of telling Professor McGonagall what was happening, but Hermione ... He had to see Hermione, if only to make sure that she was all right. His scar throbbed as he trudged down the stairs. Whatever was being done to the potions' professor, it was surely horrible.  
  
  
Hermione was sleeping on the couch, having dozed off as her anxiety began to fade and her exhaustion began catching up with her. She had not been sleeping well lately because of the time she spent on her research and because of worrying day and night about the war and about Severus. She awakened suddenly as Harry stepped out of the floo, unscathed by the magical fire that was burning low in the hearth.  
  
"Harry? How did you get down here?" questioned Hermione with a yawn.  
  
"I told Professor McGonagall that I needed help with our charms' homework. She told me to be quick about it," said Harry, brushing off his robes and joining her on the sofa. He winced as his scar started throbbing again. "But that isn't why I'm really here," he added.  
  
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, sensing that something was wrong.  
  
"Where is Snape tonight?" he questioned.  
  
"He's out," said Hermione. Her voice quavered just enough to let him know where.  
  
"I think he's in danger. My scar .. you see ... and I just have this bad feeling about him," Harry tried to explain, shuddering at the same time.  
  
"The Cruciatus curse?" she asked, taking a deep breath and recognizing the expression on his face.  
  
"I ... I wish I could say, but answers like that don't come for the asking," he replied, touching the scar again. It felt almost hot under his fingertips. "It's done this before ... when Snape's been out of the castle, but never this bad," Harry told her.  
  
"Then that must be it," she said, looking down and sighing.  
  
"He'll be all right," said Harry, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.  
  
"We can only hope."  
  
"Yes, we can," Harry agreed, trying to put confidence into his words for her sake.  
  
"You should probably go see Madam Pomfrey. It must feel awful," she said.  
  
"I'll live," Harry managed to chuckle. "Do you want to come with me? Maybe get something for your nerves?"  
  
"No, but thanks. I really should stay here. For when he comes back," she said, trying to sound as confident and optimistic as Harry, but failing.  
  
"I hope he appreciates you," said Harry, standing and stepping back toward the floo.  
  
"He does," she said with a soft smile.  
  
"Good," nodded Harry. He contemplated talking to her about Ron, but knew that her mind was elsewhere, on other things. "See you in the morning then?" he questioned.  
  
"Probably," she replied as he took some floo powder from the jar on the mantel and disappeared.  
  
~  
  
Severus no longer knew what was going on around him. Who were these men who were hurting him? Why was he here? Where was here? He only knew pain and fear and that there was something of vital importance in the pocket of his robes. His thoughts were jumbled and words escaped his lips between his screams that he did not understand. Nothing made any sense. There was only the inescapable agony and the taste of blood in his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue. And the feeling that there was something secret in his pocket that could stop all of it, that could make everything right again, that could stop _this_. But everything else was a mish-mash of images and impulses that he could not comprehend in the least.  
  
Severus Snape had been driven mad.  
  
Then, and it was growing dark, for the sun was setting behind the dark clouds overhead, the pain ceased. Or rather, the sharpest of its biting teeth grew dull. Severus collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath and moaning as his ribs began to sing in pain.  
  
"I suppose we have all had our fun," said an amused and satisfied voice.  
  
He did not know to whom it belonged, but he hated that voice more than the pain and the confusion. More than anything. He closed his eyes against the sound of it.  
  
Then Severus remembered the elusive _thing_ in his pocket and began slowly moving his hand into his robes, hoping that it would go unnoticed. His long fingers were not so dexterous as they once were, but he was finally making progress.  
  
"Malfoy, do you wish the honor of ending your friend's suffering?" the voice asked.  
  
"No, my lord, we all know that he is yours," came a hasty answer. No one was bold enough to lay claim to the Dark Lord's prey. No one was so foolish.  
  
Panic swept through Severus as he groped blindly for the talisman that would save him. Soft words on the wind reached his ears just as his hand closed around something cold and metallic.  
  
"_Avada ..._"  
  
There was an unpleasant pulling sensation that left his body awash in renewed agony, but it was over in only a moment ...  
  
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A/N: Yeah, that was a terrible way to end a chapter. *ducks flying objects*  
  
  
labrisa: Aw ... Thank you for reviewing!  
  
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Anonymous reviewer: Um, I'll have to see. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
JoeBob1379: I'm glad you liked the fluff a few chapters ago. I generally cry when I'm angry. Weird? Definitely. I think it's like that for everyone. I really appreciate all of those reviews. Thanks!  
  
  



	9. In which the results of the meeting are ...

Chapter Nine  
  
In which the results of the meeting are made known  
  
  
  
Hermione had taken a book from Severus' impressive library, to which he had granted her access almost immediately upon their return from the demon realm, and was reading to occupy her mind when she heard a loud thump in the bedroom. Her heart leapt as she laid the book aside and quickly rose from the couch.  
  
"Severus?" she called hopefully.  
  
The sound the reached her ears was not a reply. It was merely an indistinct sound. She dashed into the other room to find a heap of tangled and grass-and-mud-strained robes lying upon the floor a few feet away from the bed, the center of the apartment. For a moment she thought that something had gone wrong. Then her stomach lurched as the robes seemed to twitch violently.  
  
"Severus?" she questioned, kneeling next to him and pulling away the hood that had fallen over his face.  
  
Some part of her wished that she had not pulled back the hood as she saw his bleached skin and dark eyes wide in horror and unyielding pain. His lips, stained with blood that ran down his chin in a thin rivulet, moved almost soundlessly. He twitched violently and coughed. His head listed to one side as though he were not strong enough to hold it up. She snaked an arm behind him, causing him to howl in pain and perhaps fear.  
  
Her stomach roiled as she drew her wand and began fervently murmuring every anti-Cruciatus spell she had ever learned, had taught herself in the previous weeks. The sporadic trembling refused to subside. Severus muttered a few incoherent words. His eyes were becoming bleary and unfocused. She could almost feel him slipping away as she continued to say the spells.  
  
"I must get help. I can't do this alone," she told herself as the healing enchantments showed little sign of working.  
  
"Severus," she said, pausing to catch her breath. He did not seem to hear her. She turned his head toward her, wincing as he experienced a spasm of pain. "I need to get help. Please, Severus, give me some sign that you'll be all right in the meantime."  
  
Nothing. He merely whimpered against the pain and struggled weakly away from her. But she knew that she had no choice and gently reclined him on the carpet before dashing to the fireplace. Who to contact first ... Madam Pomfrey or Professor Dumbledore? She needed them both, but knew that having the mediwitch there was more important and that Pomfrey would alert the headmaster for her.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey," she said in a panicky voice as she tossed some powder into the fire.  
  
Only a few moments later Poppy's head appeared in the flames.  
  
"Yes, dear?" she asked.  
  
"It's Severus. Please ... he needs help immediately," said Hermione.  
  
Madam Pomfrey's eyes widened, but she nodded, "I will be right there."  
  
"The headmaster ..."  
  
"Of course. Take care of Severus until I can get there," Poppy instructed.  
  
Hermione nodded mutely before scrambling back to the bedroom where Severus was still lying upon the floor.  
  
"Severus, please, say something," she pleaded, taking up her wand and beginning the restorative spells again.  
  
He looked at her blankly, moving his bloodstained lips without making a sound. She shivered as she looked into his eyes and saw nothing left in them of the man she loved. Only emptiness and the last remnants of the suffering he had endured. A sob stuck in her throat as she tried to press onward, repeating healing and soothing spells over and over again.  
  
"Is this madness? Is that what has happened to him?" she questioned wildly.  
  
Severus convulsed weakly. He stirred slightly, moving his clenched right hand to a position over his heart. She could see a flash of gold in his hand as he did so. It was the port key. He was still holding onto it as though for dear life. Tears filled Hermione's eyes.   
  
She touched the top of his hand gently. He did not flinch or recoil. The spells had done their work at last. She was certain that he was still in pain, but the worst of it had been stripped away. All that remained was the fear and what seemed to her to be madness.  
  
"Love?" she questioned, slipping her wand back into her robes.  
  
His eyelids fluttered as though he heard her words, but could not acknowledge them. She cautiously touched his face. He shivered slightly and mumbled something. Not words. Just sounds. She hushed him gently, brushing away little bits of dirt and wiping away smudges. It was all that remained that she could do for him.  
  
"Severus, if you can hear me ..." she started to say.  
  
The she heard the sound of someone coming through the floo. She looked over her shoulder to see Madam Pomfrey, followed by a floating bag of her medical things and a moment later the headmaster. They both looked very grim and worried. Looking into Severus' eyes again, Hermione knew that it was not without good reason.  
  
"I did all the anti-Cruciatus spells," she told Madam Pomfrey as the older witch knelt upon the other side of Severus, who stared at her for a moment before his gaze seemed to roam the room, perceiving nothing and understanding nothing that was happening around him.  
  
"Good, Miss Granger, very good," said the mediwitch, sweeping her wand over Severus. "Merlin! I've never seen it this bad before," she said, taking a corked bottle from her bag. "Open his mouth for me," she instructed.  
  
Hermione gently coaxed his mouth open and watched as Pomfrey tipped the mixture into his mouth and cast a quick spell to ensure that he swallowed without choking on the murky gray draught. He coughed softly and relaxed.  
  
"Will he be all right?" asked Hermione as Poppy began fishing through her bag again. She glanced up at Professor Dumbledore who was watching them with a sad expression.  
  
"It's too soon to say," said Poppy, taking out another vial of viscous orange liquid that bubbled as she uncorked it. "Again," she ordered.  
  
Severus was very compliant as they gave him the medicine. Hermione stroked his forehead after he was made to swallow.  
  
"Albus? What happened?" asked Professor McGonagall from the doorway. Hermione, being otherwise preoccupied, had not heard her enter.  
  
"Miss Granger, please step outside with Professor McGonagall for a moment while the headmaster and I attend to Severus," instructed Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"No, I can't leave him!" she protested.  
  
"Just for a few moments," said Poppy. "While we get him into bed."  
  
"You aren't taking him to the hospital wing?" asked Hermione in confusion.  
  
"We could hardly do more for him there, and in this situation ... familiar surroundings might keep him calmer, which is very important," she explained.   
  
Pomfrey did not wish to add that if the students saw him and knew what had happened, that would be something of a panic. No, keeping Severus there was the best option for everyone involved, including the potions' master, who valued his privacy like some men valued gold and silver.  
  
"Hermione ..." said her head of house from the door.  
  
Hermione nodded silently and touched Severus' cheek one last time before standing and following Minerva out. Professor McGonagall closed the door behind them.  
  
  
"Poppy, you can tell me the truth," said Albus as the mediwitch magically undressed Severus and levitated him onto the bed.  
  
She positioned him comfortably on his stomach and began covering him with blankets against the chill in the dungeon air. For a moment her imperturbable and professional exterior dropped and she closed her eyes, remembering Severus as the fragile young man he had been in his school days and the no less fragile adult that he had been when he first returned to them. It was heart-rending. She cast a warming charm on the linens and took his pulse before daring to answer the headmaster.  
  
"His mind has been broken. I don't know if he will ever be sane again," she said, reaching for his right hand, which was still clasped around an unfamiliar object.  
  
She tried to take it from him, but he whimpered in protest and clutched it harder, withdrawing his hand from hers and slipping it under the covers.  
  
"It appeared to a pocket watch," noted Dumbledore quietly.  
  
"If he wants it so much, then perhaps I should let him keep it," she decided almost reluctantly.  
  
"Perhaps you should not tell Hermione what you told me about his condition. It might be better for her not to know."  
  
"She is a smart girl, Albus. If given the opportunity, she will examine him for herself and find out how seriously he was tortured, if she doesn't already know that."  
  
"But she won't give up hope so easily."  
  
"You underestimate her. She won't give up so long as he is still alive," said Poppy.  
  
  
Meanwhile in the other room of the potions' master's chambers, Minerva and Hermione were sitting on the couch. The younger of the two women was fighting to keep her tears back and slowly losing the battle.  
  
"He's going to be like that for the rest of his life, isn't he?" Hermione questioned, remembering stories she had heard the previous year about Neville Longbottom's parents.  
  
"Hermione, Severus is very strong," Minerva told her sternly. "And he is a fighter. He would never give up, so neither should you."  
  
"I know, but you didn't see his eyes," she said quietly, squeezing her own eyes closed to stop the tears.  
  
"I've seen it before, Hermione, during the last war, but it is always difficult when it's someone we care about," said Minerva in agreement.  
  
Hermione only nodded. She was struggling not cry in front of stern Professor McGonagall and did not trust herself to speak. She was afraid that if she broke down, that she would be sent away, sent back to her dormitory and away from Severus. That she would not be allowed to see him.  
  
"I know he loves you, Hermione. All of the staff can see it in his eyes whenever he happens to look at you. Don't underestimate the power of that love," she told Hermione gently.  
  
"I've often wondered ... Is that just something people say or is it ... real?" asked Hermione.  
  
"It was love that saved young Mister Potter as a baby and again as a first year student, according to what I have heard from the headmaster. I would say that is proof enough for me," said Minerva.  
  
Just then the door to the bedroom opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore, cutting off any further questions Hermione might have had, and she had more than a few, though she was afraid to ask many of them, knowing that their answers would be too terrible to bear.  
  
"Miss Granger, Minerva, you may come in now," he said to them.  
  
Hermione might not have noticed the sorrow in his eyes, but it was very apparent to Minerva, especially after knowing him for so long. She knew that there was no good news to be had in that room as she followed Hermione into it. For the first time in years his eyes did not seem to twinkle. Minerva looked at him questioningly after Hermione had entered the room. He simply shook his head wearily and stepped back into the chamber.  
  
Hermione walked over to the bed where Severus was lying covered by blankets. Poppy moved aside for her. Looking at Severus, Hermione noticed that his eyes were half closed, probably thanks to one of Madam Pomfrey's draughts. She brushed a few stray strands of hair from his face and managed a trembling smile. He blinked slowly, but showed no sign of recognition.  
  
"Miss Granger ..." Dumbledore began to say.  
  
"Please don't send me away," she blurted out, turning quickly.  
  
Albus chuckled quietly and said, "I would never dream of separating the two of you at this time. Someone needs to stay with him. Poppy cannot always be here. And I believe that if anyone can be a healing influence for our dear Severus, it is you, Miss Granger."  
  
"But if his condition changes significantly, you must notify me at once," Madam Pomfrey cut in sharply.  
  
"I can do that," said Hermione, feeling momentarily relieved.  
  
"I have no doubt that you can," said Poppy.  
  
"Then I can stay here tonight?" questioned Hermione to be certain that she understood properly.  
  
"Yes, and tomorrow and so on. I believe that I can arrange for you to be excused from classes tomorrow," said Dumbledore. The next day happened to be Friday.  
  
"I have given him all the potions he will need for the next twelve to fourteen hours at the minimum. So you won't need to worry about that," said Madam Pomfrey. "But in case he is in pain later, I will leave something for you to give him," she added.  
  
"Thank you," Hermione said softly, looking at Severus again. He appeared to be almost asleep.  
  
"There isn't much that we can do for him right now," said Professor Dumbledore.  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded her agreement as she gathered her things together.  
  
"Rest will do him as much good as anything else at the moment," she said.  
  
Albus looked at Minerva and Poppy and asked, "Might I have a few words in private with Miss Granger?"  
  
"Of course," nodded the mediwitch. "I will be in the hospital wing. I have ... some reading that might help with ... further treatments." She did not sound especially hopeful.  
  
"And I will have Miss Brown discreetly pack a bag for Miss Granger," said Minerva.  
  
"Good luck," said Hermione quietly, thinking of Lavender and her notoriously loose tongue. The entire dormitory would know something was wrong before breakfast, not Hermione particularly cared.  
  
The two women quietly exited the room and went on their way.  
  
"You will need somewhere to sleep tonight. I don't think it would be good for you to keep an all night vigil," said Dumbledore, drawing his wand and conjuring a small and neatly made up bed next to Severus'.  
  
"Thank you, sir, but I'm not sure that I will be able to sleep tonight," she said.  
  
"Try, Miss Granger. You will surely need your strength before this is over," Dumbledore told her kindly.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I'm certain that you must have encountered it in your reading somewhere, but you know how important the first days, even the first hours, after Cruciatus-induced madness are to the victim," said Dumbledore, walking over to stand by Severus' bedside with her.  
  
She watched as Dumbledore gently touched his shoulder, struck by the compassion, strong as any magic, that seemed to radiate from the headmaster. Severus moved slightly, but not away from his touch. Something about the gesture was like that of a father and his young son who had suddenly taken ill and did not understand why. Dumbledore sighed quietly and looked at Hermione.  
  
"I have had only one student outside of Gryffindor house that I considered to be among my favorites," he told her.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Yes," he said with the very faintest hint of amusement in his voice as though it hid another emotion. Regret or grief perhaps. "When he was young, his first and second year, he was still an outsider in his house, hardly the ideal Slytherin. Sullen and slow to bow to anyone, even those more powerful than he was. Perhaps a bit arrogant and so studious that sometimes I thought Ravenclaw would have been a better fit for him. I do not often question the Sorting Hat, but in his case I sometimes wondered. He had such a sharp mind, especially for one so young, not unlike you, Hermione."  
  
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly.  
  
"Take good care of him. He deserves better than this," he said to her.  
  
"I know, and I will do everything I can for him."  
  
"Of course you will, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore with a soft smile. "Now I must take my leave," he said.  
  
Dumbledore knew that Miss Granger's presence would be far more beneficial to the younger professor than his own. He had never had any children, though if he had, he could hardly have loved or cared for them more than he did Severus. But Hermione's feelings for the wounded wizard, scarcely more than a youth in the eyes of the aged headmaster, were stronger than that, even though they were new feelings. Perhaps because of that. And he firmly believed in the ability of love to both protect and to heal.  
  
"I understand," said Hermione with a nod.  
  
"Don't hesitate to call upon any of us, Poppy, Minerva, or myself, if you should need anything," he said before departing.  
  
  
When Professor Dumbledore was gone, Hermione sat down on the bed next to Severus. He was still awake, but very still and calm. Her throat tightened as she tried to say something him. There were simply no words. She had been in love with him for only a few short weeks. And now he was out of his mind because of torture. What could she hope to say or even do to make it better for him?  
  
She touched his soft black hair and felt tears finally trickle from her eyes and down her cheeks. He moved his cheek against her hand. Her heart leapt as she realized that he knew she was there and responded to her touch. He turned his head laboriously toward her, struggling against the weight of the charmed linens. His eyes were still empty and bleary beneath their heavy lids.  
  
"Severus?" she questioned, gently caressing his cheek and forehead.  
  
His eyelids drooped further. No recognition. Not even the hint of it. She smiled sadly, almost bitterly at him, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.  
  
"Will he be like this forever?" she wondered, feeling an icy coldness wash over her.   
  
Hermione shivered at the thought and suddenly his eyes were open again, watching her with an almost unblinking gaze. He made a soft, but indistinct sound. She hushed him, rubbing his back cautiously. That seemed to appease him.  
  
"Don't worry, Severus. Everything will be all right," she told him, though her words seemed hollow and empty even as she spoke them.  
  
He merely closed his eyes again and seemed to drift closer to sleep, mollified by her touch and gentle words. Hermione blinked away tears again and did not leave his side until long after his breathing slowed and she was certain that Severus was sleeping at last. The morning sun was nearly upon the horizon many hours later when she doused the candles and went to the bed that had been prepared for her, knowing that Professor Dumbledore was correct: she would need all her strength for what was to come  
  
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A/N: Obviously, I have a sadistic streak. Sorry about that. The next chapter is going to be strange. I thought I should issue a warning in advance. That was it.  
  
  
BLV: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Redone: I have attempted to be merciful. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Ginnyrules890: Erm, in answer to your question: no, they haven't. As for Remus and Ginny ... I will keep your suggestion in mind. Thank you for the review!  
  
Enfleurage: Part of the problem with the sentence in the previous chapter was that I was afraid that his state of mind wouldn't come across right, leaving people sort staring and thinking, 'what was that all about?'. I wanted to avoid confusion, and ended up sacrificing possibly momentum or element of surprise. But I do appreciate the constructive criticism. Next time (sheesh, like I'm making a plan to torture Snape on a regular basis) I will know better. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thanks for throwing a soft object and for the review!  
  
LadyTiffanyAnne: Erm, define 'okay'. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: Oh, no, I'm not going with that cliche at all (though it is one of my favorites to read). Snape (obviously) has other problems at the moment. Thank you very much for the review!  
  
Aislin: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
labrisa: I'm glad you liked the part with Harry and Hermione. Thanks for the review!  
  
LadySnape: Mwahaha ... I'm evil like that. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
JoeBob1379: I don't do a lot of cliffhangers, but when I do, I like for it to be a good one. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	10. In which Severus has a long argument

Chapter Ten  
  
In which Severus has a long argument  
  
  
_ The mind ought sometimes to be diverted, that it may return the better to thinking_.   
  
- Phaedrus, obscure Greek fable writer.  
  
  
  
Severus was standing on a low hill that overlooked a gray and imposing manor set amid the fens. The faint and slightly sour scent of the marshlands filled his nostrils. He closed his eyes for an instant as he recognized the scent of home. A warm, almost sultry summer breeze blew through his hair, carrying upon it the forlorn sound of marsh-dwelling birds. It was almost like music, melancholy and full of meaning to him. His robes billowed around his frame, and he spread his arms out to enjoy the sensation of the heavy material brushing against his skin. For a moment it was almost like flying.  
  
"Severus! Come inside this instant!" called an impatient feminine voice.  
  
His eyes snapped open and he looked upon the house again. There was a raven-hared woman in dark, velvety blue robes standing at the door with her wand raised. He did not consciously take note of the Sonorous charm that she had cast upon her voice as she called to him again before stepping back inside the manor. He knew her, and yet could think of no name that was hers.  
  
As Severus began walking, trudging down the hillside, he looked down at his body, his hands, and his robes. They all seemed so small. He plucked at the black, hooded robes and felt an unpleasant, sickening chill. But he did not know why he felt like that..  
  
"Am I a child?" he questioned, looking down at his small and delicate hands. "Why does this seem all wrong?"  
  
He did not have the answers to the questions that tumbled through his mind as he made his way to the house. Everything was so familiar, and yet so foreign to him.  
  
When he stepped into the manor, something hard hit him across the face, sending him to the floor, shielding his head with his arms.  
  
"You should know better than to dawdle when your mother calls for you," said the angry voice of a man, who had given him a clout. "Now go wash up for dinner," he ordered Severus.  
  
"Yes, sir," Severus heard himself say, looking up at the man and for a moment studying his face.  
  
He had a sharp, aquiline nose and a complexion that made him look as though he had been born of the fen. It was an unwholesome and sallow hue that reminded Severus of sour milk. His inky black eyes were very piercing and held in them a look of perfect and unmitigated disdain. He turned quickly on his heel as Severus dragged himself up from the floor.  
  
"Worthless nothing," the man muttered, and Severus felt his entire body burn with shame as he closed his eyes to stop the tears.  
  
  
When Severus opened his eyes again he was lying upon a soft bed in a room that felt very familiar. But if asked, he could not have said where he was or what he was doing there. He drew his knees up under the sheets as he heard raised voices in the next room.  
  
"He's a squib, Donatella. I am almost certain of it. Eight years old and not the first sign of magic! Nothing!" said a masculine voice in furious tones. It was the man who had struck him.  
  
"Phaedrus, your first signs were at the tender age of four. My magic did not manifest itself until I was seven. It comes late in my line, but we are no less powerful. If you had other sons, I would only naturally allow you to drown him in the pond, but he is our only heir," said the softer and more persuasive voice of a woman, the same one who had summoned him from the hill.  
  
"And you would let him ruin our good names?" questioned Phaedrus Snape dangerously.  
  
"I did not say that," she said in quiet, but not less perilous reply. "There are ways to force the magic out of him, to make him show whether he is truly a wizard."  
  
"And you will allow this?"  
  
"It is time for him to show his true colors. And do you really _need _my permission?" she asked with an unpleasant sort of laugh.  
  
"His life was dearly bought."  
  
"I suffered for our houses and for our bloodlines, not for the life of a mere squib. If he is not a true wizard, then it was all in vain," she answered.  
  
"Then tomorrow ..."  
  
Severus squeezed his eyes closed and hid his face in his pillow, trembling with fear and shame. If he wasn't a wizard, then he was as good as dead, and maybe he deserved to be.  
  
"Merlin, please, let me be a wizard! I don't want to die," he thought miserably, wracked by painful sobs.   
  
For a moment he felt removed from the situation, and very ill.  
  
  
Time passed in the form of a deep, all-consuming blackness that swept over him in an instant of confusion and despair at the end of which rough hands jerked him to his feet. Severus opened his eyes to find his father pulling him none too gently up a set of spiraling stone stairs and out onto the top of a tower.   
  
He could smell the nearby fen and it comforted him, helped him to stop struggling, as he was dragged to the rampart of the tower. He glimpsed the ground far below, wet with morning dew and covered with misty tendrils of fog that was just beginning to abate in the gray light of morning. The ground seemed so faraway.  
  
Then he looked at his father again as he hoisted Severus onto the parapet. The dark eyes of the older man were filled with resolve and nothing more. Then their eyes met for a split second, but Phaedrus quickly looked away. He could not look Severus in the eye.  
  
"Da?" questioned Severus weakly, his lips moving without volition.   
  
He felt as though he were only a witness to the act and not a true participant in it. He felt removed, but not unafraid because he knew what was going to happen. Or at least part of it.  
  
The elder Snape took a deep, shuddering breath and shoved his son from his perch, The boy screamed in panic and confusion as he plummeted toward the ground.  
  
  
The next thing Severus knew, he was being dragged along by the arm through a busy train station. There was a dull ache in his shoulder, which he was certain was being wrenched out of joint. He glanced up and was not surprised to see the man he knew to be his father. His lips were thin in repressed anger and fury, but his eyes were cold.  
  
"You _are_ going to school, and that is my final word on the subject. You _will_ get good marks, obey your professors, and bring honor to the family name," Phaedrus informed him. "Just like your mother would have wanted."  
  
"Da, what if the other boys are mean to me?" asked Severus. He could hear the tears and dread in his own voice as he was dragged toward a brick wall and then through it and onto another platform where a train was waiting.  
  
"Curse them in their sleep," muttered Phaedrus, giving his arm one last twist before releasing him. "Now get on that damn train, and I had better hear nothing from you until the holidays," he hissed.  
  
"Can ... can I come home then?" asked Severus in a trembling voice, wiping his eyes on his sleeve as Phaedrus shoved their push cart toward him.  
  
"We will see," he answered impatiently.  
  
As he turned and walked toward the Hogwarts' Express, Severus wondered why this was happening to him and what all of it meant.  
  
  
He was reeling from a blow to the face, doubled over in pain. His eyes were stinging too, but he would not shed tears. Never again. There was a hard, pitiless, and cold feeling in his stomach as he straightened himself. Phaedrus, a number of years older, gray just beginning to touch his dark hair, was standing before him. Severus had never seen him so angry. He did not know why. He only knew that his cheek hurt and that it was most likely going to get worse before this was done.  
  
"You wanted me to learn, _father_, and he has agreed to teach me. Allegiance was his price. I am only too glad to pay it," spat Severus, tugging up the left sleeve of the heavy black robes.   
  
Why were his clothes always the same? Severus wasn't certain, but it seemed strange to him.  
  
Then he looked down at his exposed arm and felt giddy as he saw a skull and serpent there. He did not understand the meaning of the symbol, only that it made him feel ashamed and elated at the same time. Part of him felt proud and defiant, although those feelings hardly felt like his own. The rest of him felt remorseful and very afraid.  
  
Phaedrus struck him again with a wild look in his eyes as he said, "You fool! Don't you know what he is? Don't you understand how serious this is?"  
  
"I only understand that he can show me the way to secret and forbidden knowledge, that he can help me become a great and powerful wizard," said Severus coldly, touching his bleeding lip. "And if you touch me again, I will kill you."  
  
Their wands were both drawn in an instant. The tension in the room was a powerful force. For a moment Severus was afraid that they would kill each other. Then his father spoke.  
  
"Get out of this house and never return," said Phaedrus.  
  
"Gladly," Severus sneered, lowering his wand slightly.  
  
  
Suddenly everything was gone. Only darkness remained. Severus turned around, peering into the surrounding blackness. Where was he? What was this place? He waited and nothing happened. Silence and all-pervasive darkness and emptiness. He looked down at his robes and shuddered. The same black and hooded affair. Nothing had changed. He plucked at the garment and wondered why he hated it so.  
  
Then he heard footsteps behind him in the lightless world around him. Severus turned and gasped sharply as he recognized the figure.  
  
"Da?" he questioned. This felt very wrong to him. "Da, is that really you?" he asked, faltering.  
  
The tall wizard paused a few feet away from Severus and looked him up and down as though assessing him, judging him. His black hair was not touched by gray nor his sallow face by age. He sneered slightly before speaking.  
  
"You think I am Phaedrus Snape," he said. It was not a question, but rather a mildly curious statement.  
  
"Aren't you?" asked Severus.  
  
"Your father died in 1987," the man told him.  
  
Severus looked around the place wherein they both stood and asked, "Am I dead too then?"  
  
"No," was the casual reply.  
  
"Am I dreaming?" asked Severus.  
  
"I would not call this a dream."  
  
"Then what are you?"  
  
"What do you think I am?"  
  
"You look like my father ... as I remember him from my childhood," answered Severus with a hint of both impatience and uncertainty in his voice.  
  
"Pleasant memories those were," his companion commented with a note of sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Try again," he suggested.  
  
Severus didn't feel like playing games. He was beginning to realize that something was terribly wrong, but he didn't know what. It was so confusing.  
  
"Where am I?" he asked.  
  
"A new question," said the man almost approvingly.  
  
Hearing such a tone in voice of Phaedrus Snape was almost chilling.  
  
"You won't answer."  
  
"That isn't why we are here. But why don't I ask you a question? It might be more productive that way," he said almost pleasantly. "What is madness?" he asked.  
  
Severus regarded him coolly for a moment and said, "Your questions might fall into that category."  
  
"Touché. Your wit is still intact, I see, but your answer is incorrect," chuckled Phaedrus, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"Madness ..." Severus began, attempting to give him a sensible answer, "Madness is not knowing right from wrong."  
  
"No, that is insanity. Not quite the same thing, though not always mutuality exclusive states."  
  
"It is behavior that ..." he began again.  
  
"Be more subjective," Phaedrus suggested.  
  
Severus felt a chill as he thought of what he had seen and what was happening around him. He shuddered.  
  
"I am mad," he said, the words tumbling from his lips before he could examine their meaning.  
  
"Yes, I believe you have the picture now," nodded Phaedrus.  
  
Severus felt his heart hammer in his chest as he asked, "Then where am I?"  
  
"Inside your own mind, I'm afraid," he answered, shaking his head.  
  
"And you would be ...?"  
  
"Who are you?" asked the figure standing before him.  
  
"Severus Snape."  
  
"Good, very good. Maybe your ego is still in one piece, not shattered entirely."  
  
"Ego?" Severus questioned.  
  
"You once read muggle books, learned some of their ideas. Don't tell me you've lost that knowledge, because I certainly haven't. In fact I am well aware that at the age when most healthy young men were looking at pictures of scantily clad young women, you were pouring over prohibited books about the muggle sciences," he said with an impish smile that did not suit his face.  
  
"You can't possibly tell me that _you_ are my Id," said Severus with a dubious sneer.  
  
"Of course not. Well, not exactly."  
  
"Then what, pray tell, are you?" he asked.  
  
"I am the undamaged part of your mind. The part that remembers all of the passions and impulses, mostly the ones never acted upon. The part that remembers what it was like to be a man, to be alive, and to live. I am your memory. Or more precisely your memories. Actually, in strictest terms, I believe you may also consider me something of a delusion."  
  
"Undamaged?" Severus questioned, feeling a sudden sense of dread at that word.  
  
"You are the damaged portion, consisting mostly of your personality and fractured bits of memory without any context or meaning. I am the undamaged portions. No surprise why you find that difficult to understand."  
  
"Do you know what happened to me?"  
  
"I suppose that wouldn't be something you would have troubled to hang onto," said the delusion in the form of his father. "You managed to hoard all of the worst moments of your life, especially those having to do with your father, but chose to forget being tortured until you went stark raving mad."  
  
"And you? Why aren't you ..." Severus began to ask, shivering involuntarily.  
  
"Just as confused, damaged, forgetful? Because some things stand up better to torture. Passions and frustrations are like that. Only death can truly strip those away. Lucky you," he answered.  
  
"Why are we here?" questioned Severus, looking around at the darkness again.  
  
"You want to live. You want to put your mind back together. You want to be whole again."  
  
Phaedrus, as Severus continued to think of him, cupped his hand to his ear as though listening to some faraway sound. Severus narrowed his eyes as he heard nothing.  
  
"What is it?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"You cannot hear her voice."  
  
"Whose voice? What voice?" snapped Severus.  
  
Phaedrus smiled at him and said, "Oh, if you cannot remember her, then I hardly think you deserve to know," Severus glared steadily at him until he spoke again. "Your beloved speaks."  
  
"My beloved?" Severus questioned blankly.  
  
"_You_ would forget her," snorted Phaedrus, sighing aloud and closing his eyes. "And she is so good to you," he added.  
  
"What are you insinuating?" asked Professor Snape, stiffening and narrowing his eyes as Phaedrus opened his. This was making Severus very uncomfortable.  
  
"That's right ... You haven't consummated _anything_ with her, have you?" he asked almost derisively.  
  
"I am a perfect gentleman," he replied automatically.  
  
"You're practically a eunuch."  
  
"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Severus.  
  
"You want to know what's going on out there?" asked Phaedrus with a superior look and nod upward.  
  
"How would you know?"  
  
"I have my ways," he answered a bit too smugly to be lying. "She's rubbing your back. Saying soft words in your ear. Planting tender kisses on your neck. It sort of tickles," he chuckled.  
  
"Why can't I feel any of this?"  
  
"You don't want it badly enough. You never have," answered Phaedrus, touching his neck, presumably where she had been kissing Severus, who shook his head and rubbed his eyes as he tried to wrap his mind around that one.  
  
"I have had women, you know," answered Snape after a moment of Phaedrus staring at him.  
  
"Well, yes, I should say you have. Three in fifteen years, right? But having sex with strange women that you've met in bars, some of whom were at least part hag, and making love to the woman who has sole possession of your heart are worlds apart, Severus. The former cannot compete with the latter."  
  
"We wanted to wait ..." said Severus absently, feeling his cheeks color at the observations. A few vague memories, like feathers on a breeze, flitted through his mind, but he could not catch them.  
  
"Right," said Phaedrus disapprovingly. "Or are you saying that you remember your beloved now?"  
  
"I don't know and I don't remember," he replied sullenly.  
  
"You don't believe that anyone could ever love you," said Phaedrus, reaching out and plucking at Severus' robes. "Why else would you present yourself like that?" he questioned, shaking his head.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"You are a mental representation of yourself. And you are wearing the robes of a Death Eater. You never take them off when you think of yourself. Forever nothing more than this."  
  
Severus looked down at his apparel and felt suddenly cold as he recognized in what he was clothed. The delusion was right.  
  
"I don't understand why," he said.  
  
"You have never forgiven yourself."  
  
"Who am I to forgive what I did while wearing these robes?" asked Severus sharply.  
  
"Don't give me that," sighed Phaedrus in frustration. "You are you. You know your crimes, your motives, your punishments, your long quest for repentance and absolution."  
  
"Is it enough?"  
  
"I am your conscience now too?"  
  
"I thought you might know ..."  
  
"It isn't my area," he shrugged, closing his eyes again.  
  
"What now?" asked Severus, almost not wanting to know.  
  
"She is very sweet. Nice hands. Do you like it when she runs her fingers through your hair? I seem to recall that you felt rather astounded that she doesn't find it greasy or disgusting."  
  
"I don't want to talk about this," said Severus, turning away from Phaedrus.  
  
"I thought as long as we were in here we might as well fix as many things as possible," he said with an amused chuckle.  
  
"You won't even tell me her name."  
  
"I want you to reconnect your memories on your own. It's better for you that way."  
  
"You want to toy with me," accused Severus.  
  
"That too," he replied. "It is part of who you are, and an undamaged part at that," he added as Severus turned to glare at him.  
  
"I resent that," he said.  
  
"Fine," nodded Phaedrus. "She hasn't seen you naked yet, has she?" he questioned with a slightly leering smile as he changed the subject.   
  
Asking whether Severus had seen her in such a fashion would have been a waste of time and energy. That came through rather clearly in both the question itself and his facial expression.  
  
Severus flushed a crimson color as he snapped, "I would suppose that you would have the answer to that question."  
  
"Unless you can find the way out of here, she probably will sooner or later. She is the one taking care of you, Severus. Think she will be impressed?"  
  
"You are exceedingly vulgar for a delusion," said Severus, not venturing to answer his question.  
  
"Have you had a lot of delusions to which to compare me?" asked Phaedrus conversationally.  
  
"No," answered Severus.  
  
"Speaking of undressing you, I must insist that you lose those horrid robes before you leave, and all that the metaphor entails. If not for your own sake, then for hers," said Phaedrus.  
  
"And if I refuse?"  
  
"I can't keep you here. I am only a muddle of memories, impulses, and regrets. Almost completely powerless."  
  
"But damned annoying," he growled.  
  
"I am trying to help you," he reminded Severus.  
  
"You say that you are the undamaged part of my mind. I understand that."  
  
"Good. Cognitive function seems unimpaired," nodded Phaedrus cheerily. Severus was almost certain that he detected sarcasm nonetheless. Cheerful sarcasm.  
  
"What can I do ..." Severus began to ask, but he suddenly became uncertain as to how to phrase the question.  
  
"To escape your madness?"  
  
"Yes," said Severus, closing his eyes and hoping that it was possible to do so.  
  
"There is no one right answer to that question, and none of the answers are simple. Your psyche has become fractured. You mind has collapsed in upon its self. These are not like physical things. A beautiful vase may be repaired with an adhesive agent and great care. A balloon may be patched and gently inflated again. What then can be done for this?" he asked, touching Severus' forehead with one long finger.  
  
"I do not know," he replied.  
  
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A/N: The quote at the top found me after I had written almost all of the chapter. It was really weird. And why is the delusion Snape's father? Because I watch too much Babylon 5, and good delusions are always one's father. I would like to thank Mercurial (who reviewed AW) for giving me the suggestion that helped spawn this chapter. And I suppose I owe something to all of my psychology professors who had a love of Freudian psychology.  
  
  
labrisa: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Thank you!  
  
Serenity Raye: Yes, so many questions. Um, I think this chapter answered a couple of them. About Remus and Ginny ... you might have to wait a bit. About the Weasleys at large: no, definitely not. I'm glad you liked the Hermione and Minerva scene. They kind of have similar personalities, but Minerva has a wealth of experience that Hermione doesn't. Thank you for the review!  
  
Jules: I think I answered your 'define strange' question. This is what I consider strange. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you!  
  
cloudshape: Thank you for the review!  
  
not sure yet: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Amidalasky Snape: Aw ... Thanks for the review!  
  
Ginnyrules890: I know. Cliffhangers are terrible. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
jasmine Black: Thank you!  
  
JoeBob1379: The engagement announcement ... hmm, I don't know. I think the weirdness in this chapter is self-explanitory. Thank you for the review!  
  
LadyTiffanyAnne: I will try to come up with some more Ginny/Remus soon, but I'm not making any promises here. And a double wedding? Hmm... It sounds nice, but I don't know about that. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: I'm glad you are enjoying this. I love your story, and I think you know what you're doing too. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	11. In which many people learn what has happ...

Chapter Eleven  
  
In which many people learn what has happened  
  
  
  
Severus awoke sometime during the early morning hours and began to whimper softly, awakening Hermione, who had just begun to drift to sleep herself after sitting up with him for most of the night. Minerva had dropped off her bag some hours before. Hermione lit the nearest candles with a wave of her wand only to find Severus reaching out for something with his right hand. There was an ache in the center of her chest as she glimpsed the golden pocket watch on the floor by the bed. His hand had unclenched in his sleep and the precious talisman had been lost. She picked it up and returned it to his hand. He clasped it gratefully and drew his hand back under the covers, holding the watch to his heart.  
  
"I love you," she whispered, brushing his hair away from his face.  
  
She saw a spark of emotion in his eyes. It vanished all too quickly, gone in the blink of an eye.   
  
Hermione smoothed the covers for him and renewed the warming charms upon the linens. Severus watched her as she did so, and she wondered if he understood what was going on around him. Tears filled her eyes as she leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. He closed his eyes. She could sense that her presence comforted him. His body would relax slightly and the expression on his face would become more peaceful, less confused or blank.  
  
She could not tell if he was in pain or not. She rather suspected that whatever Madam Pomfrey had given him was still working its magic, holding the discomfort at bay and keeping him calm, but no longer asleep. His eyes remained closed, but she knew that he was not sleeping. His breaths were coming in quiet, but uneven gasps.  
  
"If only I knew what was going on in his mind ..." she thought, sitting down next to him on the bed.  
  
Severus moved slightly, edging toward her, but he was too weak to do any more than that. The curse had left his body almost as damaged as his mind, but Hermione knew that it would be quicker to heal, requiring only a few days of potions, rest, and care. And his mind? Only time would tell.  
  
"Go back to sleep," she told him as Severus opened his eyes and looked at her.  
  
Hermione combed her fingers gently through his hair. Severus' lips moved silently. She held her breath and listened, hoping that he would say something, anything. But not a sound escaped.  
  
"It's all right, Severus. You don't have to talk," she assured him.  
  
He blinked slowly and his lips stopped moving. Had he understood? Hermione wasn't certain, but she believed that he might have. The thought cheered her ever-so-slightly. She smiled softly at him.  
  
"Just rest," she said quietly, not knowing what else to say to him.  
  
~  
  
Remus Lupin returned to his apartment feeling more disconsolate and miserable than he had felt in days. He likened the sensation to being under the influence of a strong Confundis charm. He rested his head against the door to his rooms for a moment before even attempting to unlock it. The mental energy required was almost more than he possessed at that moment.  
  
An emergency staff meeting had been called at the first light of dawn that morning. He had had no illusions as he hurriedly pulled on his robes and combed his graying hair before dashing to the staff room. It could not possibly be good news. Good news could always wait until after breakfast. He hated being right about that.  
  
Neither Professor Dumbledore nor McGonagall appeared to have had any sleep that night. Remus had felt a chill as he had found a place to stand between Professors Sinistra and Sprout in the back of the room. The two women looked worried, but smiled as they made room for their colleague. Minerva, standing with Albus at the front of the staff room had looked at him and shook her head slowly. Then he had glanced around the room and realized that Severus was not present.  
  
"Our colleague," Albus had begun, sending another chill through Remus, "Severus Snape is currently unwell. For those of you who for whatever reason do not know, he was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix among the Death Eaters and it is because of that role that he is currently indisposed."  
  
Remus heard Professor Sinistra at his elbow gasp sharply. She had not known. Remus remembered that her family had connections to the Dark Arts and that she had been a Slytherin herself. Not that anyone doubted her loyalty. Merely her association. Remus patted her shoulder and gave her a soft, encouraging smile. There were other professors who had simply not been told. Severus' safety had always been paramount to Dumbledore.  
  
"Is he dead?" questioned Professor Beatrice Vector, never one to take such statements at face value. 'Unwell' and 'indisposed' could mean many things.  
  
"No, he is still with us," said Albus.  
  
It was becoming quite apparent to Remus that he was leaving something out, not giving them all of the facts. He respected the headmaster enough to play along, choosing to say nothing. Not all of his fellow professors were of the same mind.  
  
"Then why the meeting, Albus? Is he permanently incapacitated or something?" asked the ghostly form of Professor Binns, who was hovering near the door. It was rare for him to take part in something so mundane as a staff meeting.  
  
Albus looked over his spectacles at Binns, the only entity in the room older than himself, and said, "He was tortured under the Cruciatus curse for an extended period of time. Hours, by Madam Pomfrey's estimate. It remains to be seen whether he has been permanently harmed by the experience or not."  
  
"Then he is ... for lack of a better word ... insane?" questioned Professor Sinistra hesitantly.  
  
"Severus is currently not himself," Dumbledore nodded in affirmation. "He has been afflicted by Cruciatus-induced madness."  
  
"And his prognosis?" questioned Remus, unable to hold his tongue.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes drifted to Madam Pomfrey, who was standing quietly near the window.  
  
She turned and sternly answered, "It is too soon to say, but we all know that few victims of the unforgivable curse recover their faculties after such prolonged exposure."  
  
"At present there is no one other than myself who is fully qualified to teach the potions' courses, and I cannot devote the necessary amount of time nor energy to it because of the current conflict. Therefore all potions' classes will be suspended pending Severus' recovery, or barring that, until the beginning of the next term by which time a new professor must be found," Dumbledore informed them all.  
  
"And his students?" questioned Professor Sprout, who understood Snape's other duties as head of house well.  
  
"I am appointing Professor Sinistra interim head of Slytherin house," said Dumbledore, looking at the petite witch and smiling slightly. "I am sure that Severus would not wish an outsider to look after his students," he added.  
  
"Thank you," Anna said softly, very much surprised.  
  
Remus knew that one of the older and more experienced professors might have been a better choice for the job, despite their conflicting house affiliations, but the choice of Sinistra made sense too. She was only of the few Slytherin professors at Hogwarts, one of four, including Severus. Sibyll Trelawny was not even present at the staff meeting, not to mention she was a total loon. He glanced at the professor of Ancient Runes and realized that he was too ancient himself to hope to hold his own in the den of snakes during a time of war. Remus looked at Anna and knew that despite appearances, she would do well in the absence of the true head of Slytherin house.  
  
"I would ask that the details of this meeting not be divulged to the students at this time. If any should make inquiries regarding our colleague's absence, tell them that he is under the weather. I do not need to impress upon any you of the importance of not frightening our pupils and maintaining order within the school," said Dumbledore before dismissing them.  
  
Remus had wanted to linger, but he could tell that the headmaster and his deputy headmistress had things to discuss and filed out with the rest of the professors, all of whom, despite any personal grudges against Snape, seemed rather subdued.  
  
Remus opened his eyes with a soft sigh as he unlocked the door to his rooms and walked inside. It would be a few hours before breakfast was served. In the meantime he wanted nothing more than to see Severus for himself.  
  
"And what of Hermione?" he mused, wondering how she would handle or was handling what had been done to the man with whom she had confessed to being in love. Remus collapsed on the couch and held his head in his hands. "This is too grotesque to be real," he thought, realizing how few days it had been since Severus and Hermione had discovered their feelings for each other. Fate was cruel.  
  
After a few minutes of unhappy thoughts, Remus decided to pay a visit to the hospital wing to see his colleague, whom he also considered a friend.  
  
~  
  
Lavender Brown was waiting at the bottom of the stairs that led to the seventh year boys' dormitory when Harry and Ron came down that morning. The female Gryffindor prefect for their year had a peculiar gleam in her eyes, one that Harry recognized. She had some particularly juicy gossip this morning. Of course, he noted, she also looked just a little worried.  
  
"Guess what happened last night," she said in a quiet, almost conspiratorial voice after the young men both said their good-morning's to her.  
  
"What?" asked Harry, absent-mindedly touching his scar, which no longer hurt.  
  
"Professor McGonagall had me pack a bag for Hermione. Do you suppose she's gone somewhere? Rather exciting, isn't it?" said Lavender. "But you can't tell anyone, I've told you," she added. "Unless, of course, you two already know something ..."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged glances, but Ron spoke first, "Not a bloody thing, Lavender."  
  
"All right then," she said, shifting her eyes to Harry, being well aware of the conflict between Hermione and Ron, but not its nature.  
  
"Same here," Harry replied.  
  
Lavender shrugged and said, "Well, secrets aren't secrets very long around here. I imagine it will all come out by the end of the day."  
  
When she had walked away, presumably going to find Parvati or one of the younger girls in their house, Harry sighed softly and turned to Ron.  
  
"This cannot be good," he said.  
  
"So do suppose this is about _him_ then?" asked Ron uncomfortably, referring to the potions' master.  
  
Harry had informed him the night before after his visit to see Madam Pomfrey that Snape was at a meeting, and all that was implied by that fact, and that Hermione was waiting up for him. Ron had nodded and inquired about Harry's scar. The pain had diminished significantly by then, replaced by a sense of dread and horror that Harry could not shake off that was probably only marginally related to the mark Voldemort had given him.  
  
"Snape? If something happened to him ..."  
  
"Yeah, Hermione wouldn't want to leave him," Ron agreed, feeling only a slight twinge of jealousy. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew that Hermione would do the same for him, that she would stick by him because of their friendship if anything ever happened to him.  
  
Harry nodded and said, "She wouldn't. But this probably means that it's very serious."  
  
"You don't think he's dead, do you?" asked Ron.  
  
"No, he wouldn't do that to her," answered Harry quickly.  
  
"He might not have had a choice."  
  
Harry took a deep breath and said, "There are ways of finding out."  
  
"The Invisibility Cloak?" asked Ron, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Actually, I was considering asking Professor McGonagall. I think she would at least tell us where Hermione is, maybe more."  
  
"Harry, Lavender said that this is supposed to be a secret. I don't think McGonagall is just going to tell us what happened last night. Do you?" questioned Ron.  
  
Harry saw his point. Professor McGonagall might not be the best choice for someone to go to for information.   
  
Of course, there was always Remus. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was good at keeping secrets, but Harry also considered him something of a friend, especially after the events of the previous year. Remus had even offered to take him in for the summer between his sixth and seventh year. Harry had opted to stay at the Weasleys for most of the holidays to be with Ron and the rest of his family in the wake of Sirius' death. Staying with Remus would have been too painful, or so he had believed at the time. Now, a bit older and wiser, Harry knew that it would have been better for them both to have had someone to lean on.  
  
But the question of the moment was, would Remus tell them what happened? Would he confirm or deny their speculations?  
  
"Remus?" Harry suggested to his friend.  
  
"All right," Ron agreed, having a rather sizable amount of confidence in the werewolf who loved his sister.  
  
~  
  
Remus had just returned from the hospital wing where he had had a nice, long chat with Poppy Pomfrey, who had surrounded herself with all the latest books and articles regarding the Cruciatus curse and how to treat all of its side effects and related complications. It was rather obvious that she had been at it for quite some time. Remus had offered her a few suggestions regarding research and reading materials, as the curse was heavily studied in his field, but relatively few advances had been made in the last fifty years.   
  
He had asked to see Professor Snape, wanting to judge the severity of his symptoms for himself, only to be told that Severus was being kept in his chambers for his own safety, comfort, and privacy. That did not bode well in Remus' opinion. Poppy had also added that Miss Granger was monitoring his condition.  
  
"Is that wise?" Remus had asked before thinking better of the question.  
  
"Miss Granger is quite capable. You of all people should be able to attest to that," Poppy answered.  
  
"No, I mean, is it wise for her to see him like that?"  
  
"Severus is reasonably calm at the moment, or he was when I left them. It is hardly more than Miss Granger has seen before," answered Madam Pomfrey. "But, yes, I understand what you mean, Remus. It is very cruel for a young girl to see someone she loves ... like that. But I think it would be far worse to keep her away from him. Albus and Minerva both agree," she added, almost as though justifying the decision, which was not something she needed to do for Remus.  
  
"May I visit him, Poppy? Severus and I reached an understanding of late, and I would like very much to see him," said Remus.  
  
"As far as I am concerned, you may, but you should also consider Miss Granger's feelings in the matter," she answered sternly.  
  
"Of course," he had replied before returning to his rooms.  
  
Remus was sitting on his couch with a pot of floo powder in his hands, contemplating his visit and what he might say to Hermione, when there was a quiet knock on his door. It was still a while until classes began. As he left his seat and returned the vessel to its place on the mantel, Remus more than half hoped that it was Ginny, coming to see him about something or other before breakfast. While he could not tell her what had happened during the night, he very much wanted to see her that morning. But when he opened the door, he was surprised to find Harry and Ron standing outside with very serious looks on their faces.  
  
"Remus, can we come inside?" asked Harry.  
  
"Of course," he answered, opening the door wider and gesturing for them to enter. "Is there something that I can do for you both this morning?" he inquired, but already knowing exactly why they were there. Hermione was not in Gryffindor Tower that morning and they wanted to find out where she had gone. Remus was rather flattered that they had come to him, but he didn't know what he would tell them.  
  
Harry looked at him very solemnly and said, "We suspect that something happened to Professor Snape last night and were wondering if you could tell us anything."  
  
Remus looked at him incredulously for a moment. Harry and Ron as good as knew what had happened. The staff had hardly known for a full hour.  
  
"How did you ...?" he began to ask, forgetting himself for a moment. "I mean ..." he said quickly.  
  
"So it's true," Harry interrupted.  
  
Remus motioned for them to sit down on the couch as he nodded slowly in confirmation. There was no keeping secrets from these two, but he knew them well enough to know for a fact that they could be discrete.  
  
"Professor Snape was ... injured," he said, groping for a suitable word, "at a Death Eater meeting last night. Do you want to tell me how you knew?"  
  
"My scar. Well, partly at least. And Hermione was gone last night," Harry explained.  
  
Remus knew all about the scar. He had witnessed Harry grimacing and touching the lightning shaped mark more than once in class and had questioned him about the matter during the previous year. He had been almost surprisingly forthright, considering that Harry was very secretive by nature, not unlike a certain potions' master and spy for the Order.  
  
"Can you tell us ... how bad off he is, professor?" asked Ron awkwardly.  
  
Professor Lupin looked at him for a moment and thought, "Will wonders never cease? Ron Weasley has just asked about Snape's health," He shook his head and replied, "I haven't seen him yet, Ron. I was just on my way down to his rooms when you and Harry arrived. Madam Pomfrey says ... that it doesn't look good for him."  
  
"He's going to die then?" questioned Ron, staring at the floor with an inscrutable expression.  
  
"No, he's mad, isn't he, Remus?" Harry asked him.  
  
"That's right, Harry. You've done your homework," Remus nodded with a wry smile.  
  
"Can we come with you?" inquired Harry.  
  
Remus hesitated. He didn't want to refuse them callously, especially since Hermione was down there too. It was beyond difficult to separate the trio, or it had been before Hermione had taken up with Snape. But then would it do more harm than good to permit them down there? Those afflicted by the madness induced by the curse could become volatile with little provocation and that was the last thing that Remus, or any of them, wanted to happen.  
  
"We won't cause any trouble," added Ron.  
  
"You'll leave if it becomes necessary?" asked Remus sternly, looking at them each in turn.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Very well then," said Remus with a nod, taking the floo powder from the mantel piece. "Let's go," he said.  
  
~  
  
Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk with a copy of the early edition of the newspaper when Minerva walked into the office. A few of the more lively portraits on the walls smiled knowingly at her. In other circumstances she might have blushed, but she was too distracted and overwhelmed to respond even to the eyebrow wiggling of long dead Headmaster Osborne. Albus looked up from the paper and smiled at her. But she didn't miss the worried and thoughtful look that the smile masked. Minerva had known him too long.  
  
"Anything in there that I should know about?" she inquired, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and nodding toward the paper.  
  
"There were no Death Eater attacks reported by the Ministry last night," he informed her.  
  
"You mean besides the one on Severus."  
  
"Yes," he nodded.  
  
"He would be ... pleased ... to know that no one else was harmed last night," said Minerva after a pause.  
  
"He would never say so."  
  
"Gracious, no," Minerva agreed, clenching her hands together in her lap.  
  
"It also means that they are preparing for something. Almost seven straight weeks of attacks is not interrupted by just one man. I think that preparations for another battle, another desperate defense of our school, should be started ... now," Albus told her.  
  
"When will you inform the students?" asked Minerva, nodding somberly. It was not unexpected. They both knew that Voldemort was planning to strike again soon.  
  
"This evening in the Great Hall. He struck in the light of day last time. I believe this attempt will come during the hours of darkness."  
  
"Any word about his ... supporters?" she asked.  
  
"I have sent an owl to Alastor Moody. He will know if there has been any disturbance at Azkaban," said Albus. "He has been watching the island for sometime."  
  
"And the werewolves and the giants?" inquired Minerva, remembering that they had only just managed to keep both parties neutral during the last battle thanks to Remus, Hagrid, and Madam Maxime.  
  
"No word," said Albus, shaking his head. "But we cannot afford to send Hagrid away again at the moment."  
  
"Of course not," she agreed.  
  
"Everything will work out, Minerva. We have powerful allies, Moody and his friends, and all of our colleagues. Hogwarts is a force to be reckoned with. Remember that."  
  
"And the students," she added.  
  
"Yes, and most of our students will rise to the occasion," he said quietly. "Your generation seemed to grow up fast, as did those who lived during the first war with Voldemort, but they are growing up even faster."  
  
"I wish ..." she started to say, but merely shook her head.  
  
"I know. So do I," Albus chuckled. "Perhaps this would cheer you up just a bit," he said, taking a bag of lemon drops from his desk.  
  
"I couldn't ..." said Minerva.  
  
"There was a time when you enjoyed them very much. Please, I insist," he said, leaving his desk and placing the bag in her hands.  
  
"Very well," she said, reaching into the bag.  
  
Minerva half suspected that it was just Albus' way of easing the tension and lightening the mood, which was one of those things he did that often made other people, students especially, think that he was a little crazy. But when she reached into the bag, she didn't find any lemon drops inside. For a moment she thought he had handed her an empty bag, giving a little credence to the opinions regarding his mental heath. Then she felt something brush against her fingertips. She gasped aloud as she realized that it was a ring.  
  
"Albus!" she said, pulling it from the bag.  
  
"I ran out of romantic ideas, I'm afraid," he said, shaking his head as she slipped the ring on and looked at it with a stunned expression on her face. "I would have given it to you sooner ... last night in fact ... but the owl that was bringing it here was blown off course or some nonsense like that. I would rather have fetched it myself, you understand, but ..."  
  
"It's lovely," she interrupted.  
  
He leaned against his desk and said, "I had hoped you would like it."  
  
"I do," she said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes.  
  
"No, that part comes later, after we win the war," he replied with a twinkle in his eyes. "And I do believe that we will prevail."  
  
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A/N: I wanted to end a chapter on a non-dark note.  
  
  
not sure yet: Thank you!  
  
excessivelyperky: I'm on your list? Cool. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: You liked Phaedrus? Really? Thanks! He's the product of sitting in a car for five hours (in case you wanted to know that). It was supposed to be creepy (and uncomfortable) when the delusion of Phaedrus started to pry into Snape's love life. Who would have been the last person in world that Snape would have ever wanted to go there? Ha, ha ... his father. Thank you for the review!  
  
Pidgie: Thank you!  
  
agnessa: I don't know if I exactly _enjoy_ torturing Severus, but it comes really easily. Probably says something about the fics that I read. It is really difficult to imagine Severus having a happy, normal childhood. Thank you very much for reviewing!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: Yeah, some of Freud's theories were really strange, but I liked the whole conscious/subconscious mind stuff. It sort of makes sense to me. About the ending ... I can't say! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
SilverMoon: How long would be a long time? Thank you for the review!  
  
Ginnyrules890: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Isis Malfoy: I hope the Albus and Minerva moment in this chapter was sufficient (and not too fluffy). I am trying to balance the pairings, but Severus has a knack for taking up all my time. Thanks for the review!  
  
LadyTiffany: Yes, I know what you mean. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
JoeBob1379: I warned everyone that it would be weird. Thank you for the review!  
  
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Than Stillman: Yes, it was odd. I admit it. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	12. In which Severus remembers more

Chapter Twelve  
  
In which Severus remembers more  
  
  
  
When Severus opened his eyes, he was no longer standing in the emptiness and darkness of his injured mind and talking with the delusion of his father. He was back in his childhood memories, and he did not understand how or why he had returned to these unhappy scenes from his lonely and too often painful boyhood.  
  
He was lying on the floor in the foyer of Snape Manor. Phaedrus had just struck and began to walk away, muttering the hateful words:  
  
"Worthless nothing."  
  
Severus closed his eyes felt the renewed sting of tears in them and shame course through his body like a burning acid. He choked back a sob and looked up at his father, who had paused. He watched the older man's shoulders slump before he turned a second time.  
  
"I didn't mean it. Just go and wash up for dinner," Phaedrus told him, reaching down and pulling young Severus to his feet with less than the customary amount of roughness.  
  
He nodded and raced to the wash room near the kitchen without another word, drying his eyes on his black robes, which still seemed out of place. Severus had the idea that he should know why, but it had slipped his mind, which remained a confused jumble.  
  
He looked at the tear-stained face of his young self in the mirror. He gasped as his reflection changed into the form of his father.  
  
"You were a cute kid. I can't remember if anyone ever told you that. But you need to think about the things you are seeing and experiencing. The things happening here made you who you are, Severus," the familiar face in the mirror told him.  
  
"I don't understand," he stammered. His voice was not that of a child, but rather his own tired, sharp-toned voice as an adult.  
  
"Then you have no hope," replied the man in the mirror who looked like his father before the surface of the looking glass shimmered and Severus' own reflection returned.  
  
He finished washing his hands and hurried to join his parents in the dining room, wondering what he was supposed to see or learn.  
  
  
When he stepped into the dining room, Severus found himself suddenly swept into dark forgetfulness. But he was not afraid or alarmed. It was becoming commonplace for him already. It was a little like going to sleep after a long night and not realizing it. Just nodding off. He tried relating the experience to something, but he found that he could not quite grasp the thing, the memory or experience, that he wanted to recall. There was too much emptiness where there had once been so many thoughts and so many memories. He was conscious of the loss for an instant, and it caused him pain.  
  
Then Severus was lying in bed again, the sound of his parents conversation just fading, replaced by the pounding of his heart and stifled sobs. He was frightened. The emotion was stronger than any terror that he could remember, but it seemed to draw upon many sources, not simply upon the words of his mother and father. He had lost so much, and yet he still knew that there were many terrors in the world and many of them had been or would be visited upon him.  
  
Then he heard the door to his room creak open quietly. Severus tensed and held his breath, managing to still his sobs as he kept his face buried in his pillow. Something heavy jostled his mattress. He waited, not knowing what was happening. Suddenly he felt fingers gently combing through his long black hair. Phaedrus? He was not an overly demonstrative man nor was he raising his son to be dependent upon others or what he considered to be weak, but he was there nevertheless that night.  
  
"Merlin, let him be a wizard. I don't want him to die," Severus heard his father say quietly.  
  
Severus never let him know that he wasn't asleep. He merely stayed still and quiet while his father sat on the corner of his bed for a long time before leaving. He almost wanted to say something, to tell him of his own fervent prayer to be a wizard, to be acceptable. But he remained silent instead, thinking and feeling comforted by his presence. Phaedrus had stopped tucking him in and reading him a story when he was five years old. This was unprecedented. Severus wondered for a moment if were real or a delusion. But then what was really real?  
  
  
He was falling. Severus knew the sensation well enough. He remembered having dreams about falling and awaking from them in a cold sweat just before he hit the ground. More than once in his adult life a discharge of wild and wandless magic had broken small objects in his rooms. He kept unbreakable containers by his bed for those eventualities. Trivial things to remember, he thought, when one is plummeting from a tower.  
  
He could see, for the tiniest fraction of an instant, his father looking down at him from the turret. Then he felt a spark of something run through his flailing arms and felt himself slowing down as he crashed to the ground. The jolt was amazingly painful. For an instant his senses seemed to come alive, and he imagined that he saw a room decorated in green and silver colors and a four-poster bed. It was much more real than the manor and misty lawn, or even the pain caused by his fall. And there was a young woman with curly hair dozing next to him. Then he blinked, and the vision was gone.  
  
There was a soft popping sound next to him. Severus turned his head weakly, almost surprised that he still could. Phaedrus was standing there, looming over him with a satisfied expression on his face. He knelt in the damp grass next to Severus and began methodically checking the boy for injuries. His eyes would dart away from time to time. Severus felt a lump in his throat as he realized something that he had never known when he was a child. His father was not uninterested in him or indifferent to his condition. Phaedrus was holding back tears.  
  
"Am I a wizard now, Da?" he questioned.  
  
"You performed a satisfactory Levitation charm, son, though I believe you may be sore for a few days. It wasn't quite enough to stop your fall, but it was magic," Phaedrus informed him.  
  
"I'm a wizard," Severus whispered, letting a smile creep across his face. That was one of the happiest moments of his life. He knew for certain that he wasn't a squib and that he had pleased his father.  
  
Phaedrus had nodded coolly, a smile tugging at his lips, as he picked up his son securely in his arms and carried him back inside the manor. Severus closed his eyes and rested his cheek against his chest, savoring a moment that he knew could not last forever.  
  
  
Severus climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express, ducked into the first empty compartment that he found, and sat down by the window, looking down at his jet black robes, wondering why they plagued him so. His father had just given him a stern dressing down and threatened not to let him come home for the holidays. He was miserable. He missed his mum, who had only been gone for two months' time. Severus leaned his head against the cool pane of glass and willed himself not to cry, not to show weakness. But everything seemed so wrong.  
  
Suddenly there was a tapping on the window. He jerked upright and stared as his father rapped a second time on the glass. Severus hurriedly opened window.  
  
"Son ... you can come home for Christmas," Phaedrus told him, trying to sound stern. "If you still want to," he added.  
  
"I do," said Severus quickly.  
  
"Your mother was very proud when you got your letter. I know you won't disappoint either of us," he said.  
  
"I won't let you down, Da," said Severus.  
  
His father nodded and grasped his hand for a moment. Severus smiled and leaned out of the window to hug him good-bye, but the train began moving, pulling them apart all too quickly.  
  
"Good-bye, Severus! And be careful!" Phaedrus called as the train pulled out of the station.  
  
"I will, Da! I promise!" he yelled back, waving farewell to his father.  
  
The image of Phaedrus standing on the platform, a pale and solemn figure in gray and muted green traveling robes, stuck with him. They were so alike, and yet so different.  
  
  
Severus could taste blood, and he didn't mind the taste of it. There was the sound of a rushing wind in his ears, the sound of his own blood pumping furiously, as he stood there under the influence of unbridled hatred and fury. Severus sneered at Phaedrus, who clutched his wand in a white-knuckled death grip. If the son was furious, then the wrath of the father was like that of an angry god.   
  
He felt a thrill as he moved through the door. He also felt an enormous amount of shame and regret. Part of him knew that Phaedrus was right about Voldemort and the Death Eaters. But the part of him that was only a memory wanted his father to do something stupid so that he could use some of his newly acquired knowledge on him. Severus was unwilling to cast the first spell, but he would rise to any challenge Phaedrus offered.  
  
"Son, my temper I ... Perhaps if we talked this out sensibly. Maybe there is still time or something ..." said Phaedrus, reaching for his son with his empty hand as his anger dissipated, as he realized that he was losing his seventeen-year-old son forever.  
  
Severus slapped his hand away and said, "I'm through with you. I am giving you a piece of advice: stay out of my way. Don't ever try to speak to me or see me again. You will regret it."  
  
Phaedrus looked at him with the steady gaze of a Slytherin lord and said, "You may not find it easy to return, Severus, but I would welcome you back, no matter what may become of you out there." With his final words he looked past Severus toward the entrance of the manor.  
  
Severus sneered at him. He wanted to close his eyes, but it was like one of those muggle movies. The images and sounds continued whether he wanted them to or not. He wanted very much to scream.  
  
"I will become a great wizard, father, and even if you aren't proud of me, there will be others to celebrate my achievements, my friends and my lord," he said coldly, turning on his heel and walking from the manor.  
  
  
Severus was crying when the darkness consumed him and the memories ended. He was lying down in the darkness and wanted nothing more than to lie there until the pain and shame disappeared, if they ever would. He imagined that he could smell Dark Magic and even the accompanying guilt on his clothes as he covered his head with his arms. So much that he couldn't remember and now so much more that he could. And only a few pieces here and there added up to anything good or pleasant. He had never meant to disappoint his father. He had never meant to become one of the bad guys. But there it was. He had seen it all for himself.  
  
Then there was something poking him in the ribs. It felt like the tip of a boot. He kept his eyes closed and his face covered, hoping whatever or whoever it was would go away and just let him be.  
  
"Get up, Severus. We don't have time for this," said a familiar, impatient voice.  
  
"No," he said, looking between his arms to see Phaedrus, or rather the delusion of him, standing there in the surrounding darkness.  
  
"You cannot hide from yourself, Severus. Not here of all places."  
  
"You aren't me," he snapped, lowering his arms, but remaining where he was on the ground, or whatever the hard surface beneath him was. He was almost certain that it was part of the delusion.  
  
"Then who I am if you know so much?"  
  
"You're ..." and Severus was lost for words.  
  
"Only the uninjured portion of your mind," said Phaedrus. "Are you forgetting things? That would be a very bad sign."  
  
"I don't know," said Severus, touching his face and finding it dry despite the tears he had been shedding moments before. Was nothing real? Not even his own tears?  
  
"It's strange, and you aren't in a good position to understand what has happened and is happening to you. We aren't, I suppose you could say. We are in the same boat, after all."  
  
"How long has it been since ..," Severus began to ask, slowly climbing to his feet.  
  
"We last talked? Can't you tell?" asked Phaedrus.  
  
"No."  
  
"Hours do you think? A single heartbeat? Five years? Ten? A day? Care to take a guess?"  
  
"You said we don't have time," said Severus, glaring at him in irritation.  
  
"For this perhaps we do."  
  
"Hours then?" he questioned.  
  
Phaedrus nodded and said, "I'll accept that as an answer."  
  
"Can you tell me what's been going on ... out there?" asked Severus anxiously.  
  
"Why so concerned? Your worries are all in here," chuckled Phaedrus. "Or are you thinking about a girl at the moment? Young? Curly brown hair that falls around her face just so?"  
  
The brief image that he had seen, that had provided a momentary respite from his memories, flashed into his mind for an instant.  
  
He raised his eyebrows in surprise and stammered, "She is the one that loves me then?"  
  
"Indeed," nodded Phaedrus, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
"I must have connected somehow with the outside world ..."  
  
"With your senses, my dear Severus," Phaedrus corrected.  
  
"How?"  
  
"If I had all the answers, we wouldn't be having this conversation. I would simply have put everything right for you and enjoy the results," said Phaedrus. "But I highly suspect that it was the pain, if you must know."  
  
"The would make sense," said Severus.  
  
"No, it certainly would not! It was pain that brought you here in the first place. I should think it would be incredibly ironic if it was pain that took you back out again," objected Phaedrus.  
  
"Tell me about her," said Severus after a protracted pause.  
  
"She loves you. She's napping right now. Couldn't even crawl to her own bed. Just dozed right off where she sat watching over you," said Phaedrus, shaking his head.  
  
"I know nothing about myself that would make me in any way worthy of such attentions," said Severus, looking down at his robes.  
  
"But then you know very little," Phaedrus reminded him. "Take off the robes," he suggested.  
  
"Why do you want me to?"  
  
"This perception you have ... that you are bad, perhaps even evil at heart, it doesn't suit a man who is loved by a such a sweet and intelligent young woman and who struggles so arduously for his own redemption. Self-loathing is a impediment in every struggle."  
  
"And a philosopher too," sneered Severus.  
  
Phaedrus bowed in a mocking fashion and said, "I do what comes naturally." An impish smile tugged at his lips as he added, "And that is something from which you could take a lesson."  
  
"Why do appear in the form of ... my father ... and act ..."  
  
"So very contrary to his nature? I've already confessed to being a delusion. What more do you want from me?" he asked impatiently.  
  
"Don't finish my sentences," said Severus.  
  
"Easily done. Glad we've gotten that cleared up. Now, on to more important things," said Phaedrus, plucking at Severus' Death Eater robes.  
  
"And this is important because it's an impediment?"  
  
"To many things," nodded Phaedrus.  
  
"Then why don't you subdue me and take them?" asked Severus.  
  
"I never thought of that," said the delusion with a momentary contemplative look. "But really, I don't think we would like the outcome. You are injured already, if you recall. I might do more harm than good. And if I managed to succeed, I think that poor girl out there deserves a fair head start."  
  
"Repugnant!" snorted Severus as an unholy leer lit his companion's face.  
  
"Someday you'll like girls, I promise," said Phaedrus, putting a mock-fatherly hand on his shoulder.  
  
"It always comes back to sex for you, doesn't it?" asked Severus.  
  
"Mostly, but a bottle of brandy or a nice lie on a warm beach would not be unwelcome," he replied with a shrug. "Of course, all three ..."  
  
"Don't we have more important things to discuss?"  
  
"You keep changing the subject. But I suppose I shouldn't blame you, being hurt and all," sighed Phaedrus.  
  
"Can you tell me why I returned to the same memories ... only to see more of them?" asked Severus.  
  
"Did you like what you saw?"  
  
"Parts of it, but mostly, no."  
  
"Did you learn anything?"  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"Tell me about your father. We can go from there," suggested Phaedrus.  
  
Severus looked down again and shook his head slightly. He didn't want to think about that. It was too difficult to understand what he had experienced in those long buried memories. Even before the madness he would have been reticent even to think upon his childhood for such an extended period of time. It was very painful, and he understood so little of what he felt.  
  
"You must," said Phaedrus.  
  
"Or you'll what?"  
  
"Try to send you back to those memories until you cooperate," he answered succinctly, though with the hint of a threat in his tone. "This is the most important part of putting your mind back together, after all," he added.  
  
"I can't tell you anything," said Severus, shaking his head.  
  
"Try," he insisted. "These are some of your strongest and most personal memories. I can understand why you don't want to dwell on them as they seemed to be mostly unpleasant, but they are the key to all of your other memories, including the good ones that you don't even know you're missing," said Phaedrus gently.  
  
"Like the ones of her?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"He ... had a temper," said Severus, after taking a deep breath. "He wasn't exactly what one would describe as a pleasant person." He paused. "But I'm not either, am I?" he questioned as though it was a revelation.  
  
"He wasn't a saint and neither are you, Severus. He was and you are only human. And you do all right," said Phaedrus with a chuckle.  
  
"This would be easier to talk about if you were someone else."  
  
"Beggars can't be choosers," he said.  
  
"And I suppose I am no better than a beggar here," Severus replied quietly, rubbing his eyes and struggling with what he had already remembered.  
  
He was suddenly aware that he could think more clearly, that things were coming back to him. Snippets of conversations with different people. Strangers to him, yes, but familiar nonetheless. Flashes of images from what he could identify readily as his school days. Severus was frightened for a moment. Were these things that he wanted to remember?  
  
"Don't fight it, Severus. You have neither the strength nor the time to waste."  
  
"It's rather uncomfortable ..." he answered, listening to whispers of forgotten voices.  
  
Then Severus heard a softer, kinder voice among the chorus. She was whispering to him, saying his name in warm and tender tones, almost lovingly. Her voice grew louder than the rest, and he savored the sound of it. Soothing and familiar, though he could not give her a name. He closed his eyes and smiled.  
  
"You are remembering her voice," said Phaedrus.  
  
"This is her speaking? The woman you have called my beloved," said Severus softly, listening to her, but not quite understanding her words.  
  
"Yes, that is she. At least you recall her voice now, and that is something," said Phaedrus. "Is hearing her voice worth the discomfort?" he questioned with a smile.  
  
"Yes," Severus breathed as the comforting sound faded again and he opened his eyes.  
  
"Then I ask you again to tell me of your memories in hopes that you may be with her again," said Phaedrus.  
  
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A/N: Yet another weird chapter.   
  
  
Enfleurage: I always feel a certain amount of nervousness when I step too far from the beaten path. Phaedrus and Severus do resemble each other quite a bit. I wanted to describe his mother a little more, but I never found a good opportunity (didn't want it to seem too random). About Albus and Minerva (and timing) ... if any character (has within the story) a clear idea of what is happening - the big picture -, Dumbledore would have to be that character. So perhaps giving her the ring then was a bit ... awkward, but they are in midst of war. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Ginnyrules890: Thanks for the review!  
  
Aislin: No, it's not going to be _just_ Snape/Hermione. It's just more difficult than I anticipated to include an equal amount of Ginny/Remus or Albus/Minerva. And Phaedrus is horrible, but Snape had to get his temper (think PoA) from somewhere. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Serenity Raye: Lavender is a gossip, not a genius. I have a strange liking for Professor Sinistra. I cannot imagine her in any house, but Slytherin. The other professors? Hufflepuff: Sprout (of course) and the muggle studies' professor (because that class would need a peace-maker. Ravenclaw: Flitwick and Binns (so what if he's dead). I see Gryffindor as churning out a lot of teachers (Albus, Minerva, Remus, and Hagrid from the books) with Slytherin as a close second, but sometimes not by choice (Snape). Staff houses are always an interesting topic. Thank you very much for the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Thank you!  
  
Isis Malfoy: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
jasmine Black: Yeah, he's dead. Sorry about that. Thanks for the review!  
  
JoeBob1379: I'm glad you liked the lemon drop bag thing. I was afraid it would seem to cheesy. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
luna: I love _Some Like it Hot_. Such a cute movie. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Amber: I will try to include some more Remus/Ginny. Thank you for the review!  
  
SilverMoon: Yeah, that is a long time. Thanks for the review!  
  
not sure yet: Thank you!  
  
maridale3: You're welcome, and thank you for reviewing!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: Thank you for the review!  
  
Jules: I have a tendency to write stronger female characters (including Hermione and Minerva). I don't like weepiness (is that a word?) in general, although it is necessary sometimes, but I see a lot of potential for maturity and toughness in Hermione. And about Ron, even though I can barely tolerate the character, he is a good friend and he _tries_. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	13. In which Severus and Hermione have visit...

Chapter Thirteen  
  
In which Severus and Hermione have visitors  
  
  
  
"Hermione? Is it all right if we come in?" called Remus Lupin from the doorway of the bedroom.  
  
He wasn't sure if she was asleep or just sitting there with her head bowed, taking a moment to rest or gather her thoughts. By the way her head snapped up at the sound of his voice, he guessed that it was the former. She had dozed off sitting on the bed next to Severus, facing toward the door almost as though she were guarding him. Her eyes looked a little bleary, he noted, not to mention the circles forming under them. Remus knew that she had slept very little that night and he could hardly blame her. He wished that they, Harry, Ron, and himself, had chosen a more opportune time to call upon Hermione and her patient.  
  
Remus' eyes drifted to the form on the bed, wrapped in many blankets against the chill of the dungeons. He could not see his face, but the raven black hair gave Severus away. He seemed to be sleeping too, but Remus could not be certain. It felt as though it were only yesterday that he had been awakened by Ginny in the demon world and told that Severus was badly hurt. He had padded in werewolf form into a room very similar to this one to find Severus lingering near death with only young Hermione Granger to stave it off. And here they were again. Severus lying in bed, wounded in mind rather than body, and Hermione watching over him.  
  
"What?" asked Hermione groggily.  
  
"May we come in?" asked Remus again, trying to manage a comforting smile, but the worry in his eyes gave him away.  
  
"Of course," she said, looking at the two young men following him into the bedroom.  
  
She was not surprised to see Harry. Well, no more than she was surprised to see Remus. But she couldn't imagine what had brought Ron down to the dungeons. Was he there to gloat? Her cheeks colored for a moment as she felt a rush of anger. Then she looked him in the eye and saw that he didn't look at all triumphant or even pleased. Ron only appeared to be a little nervous and uncomfortable.  
  
"How is he?" asked Remus, stepping closer to the bed that either of his companions dared.  
  
"He's awake," Hermione told him. "Or at least his eyes are open. I'm not sure if that's the same thing or not."  
  
"So he has remained calm so far?" questioned Remus, wanting to turn her attention to one of the positive signs, instead of the more negative ones.  
  
"Yes, thankfully," she said, closing her eyes for an instant.  
  
"Hermione ..." Ron began to say, but stopped and shook his head.   
  
He had never imagined feeling the least bit sorry for Snape, but standing there looking at him staring vacantly at the far wall, huddled under the covers. He felt a twinge of regret and even concern. A terrible thing had been done to him, and Ron wished that it had never happened. And when he looked at Hermione, he felt even more sorry because of the fear and anguish in her eyes. It was more obvious than ever that she loved him, but instead of feeling jealous or angry, Ron just wished that this would turn out all right for her, that Snape would snap out of it or something, because Hermione deserved to be happy.  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said simply.  
  
"Thanks, Ron," she whispered.  
  
She had not expected him to say anything, but she was glad that he had done so. Hermione looked at the three people who had come to visit her and felt just a little bit better as she glanced down at Severus and absently brushed a stray strand of hair from his face. She very grateful to have such friends.   
  
"When Severus recovers, I will certainly let him know," she thought.  
  
"Is there anything we can do, Hermione?" asked Harry, not knowing quite what to say.  
  
"I don't think so. Madam Pomfrey said that he needs rest. I ... I've read about this sort of thing too and I can't think of anything that might help him. Just the pain medicine ... and rest. But they say ... that only about five percent of victims ..."  
  
"Hermione, don't think like that," said Remus, walking around the bed and sitting down next to her. "You have to stay strong and have hope for his sake," he told her quietly, nodding toward Severus, who almost seemed to be watching them.  
  
"I'll try," she answered. "He doesn't like it when I'm upset," she chuckled, wiping one eye with the back of her hand.  
  
"Well, that's something at least, isn't it?" questioned Remus.  
  
"Of course," she nodded.  
  
Remus looked at Harry and Ron, who were beginning to seem a little anxious. Ron was shuffling his feet and trying not to stare at Snape. Harry on the other hand was fiddling with his robes and furtively glancing at the potions' master with anxious eyes. Remus knew approximately what he was thinking. He was wondering what would become of Hermione if all their hopes failed, if Severus never recovered his faculties. Harry, he knew, had a strange sort of appreciation for their relationship.  
  
"Why don't you boys go on to breakfast?" he suggested in a rather firm, but friendly tone.  
  
The pair exchanged glances and nodded.  
  
"Of course. Take care, Hermione," said Harry with an encouraging smile.  
  
"Yeah ..." echoed Ron as they both walked out.  
  
"I'm hoping that I might be permitted stay here a little while longer," said Remus questioningly after he heard them leave by floo.  
  
Hermione looked at the concern in his eyes and said, "I don't think I'll order you out just yet."  
  
"Would you like a chance to freshen up and so forth? I can keep an eye on him while you do."  
  
"I suppose I could use a change of robes and all," she agreed in a hesitant tone, glancing over at the bag Professor McGonagall had left for her.  
  
"Go ahead," said Remus, patting her shoulder and gently shooing her from the bed. If nothing else, he knew that she could use a few minutes away from Severus' side to collect herself, and he meant to have a conversation with his colleague if it was at all possible.  
  
Hermione took her things and ducked into the bath. She looked in the mirror and winced. She looked like death warmed over. But then why shouldn't she? She had not slept very much the night before, and there was also the incredible strain of the anti-Cruciatus incantations she had performed, which was still showing, and the anxiety and stress of watching over Severus and simply not knowing if his condition would ever improve. She splashed some cold water on her face and willed herself not to think about it.  
  
Meanwhile, Remus was watching Severus' eyes as they roamed the room, almost as though he had realized that Hermione was gone and was searching for her. Remus had seen people who had been driven mad with the curse before, including an old school chum, Frank Longbottom, who was still in St. Mungo's Hospital with his similarly afflicted wife. While Remus had never been in contact with someone so soon after the incident, he suspected that Severus was doing better than most. He was calm and seemed marginally aware of his environment, which was more than could be said for poor Frank and Helen.  
  
"Severus, I wish I knew for certain whether ..." Remus began to say, but stopped and rubbed his tired, sad eyes. "It doesn't matter. I'm going to say what needs to be said even if you can't hear me," he said.  
  
"You have to come out of it. You _must_ beat this, Severus, and not just for her sake, you know. The final battle is coming, and you will be needed. And very soon. I don't know if you realize that ... I don't think you've ever had a clear picture of your place or your importance. I wish that someone had given you that, but what's done is done. I know that after the battle last spring ... you blamed yourself for not being here, for the deaths, for not being able to fight openly on our side. Well, this time you'll have your chance," said Remus, giving Snape's shoulder a squeeze. "You just have to ... come back to us and take it," he added, noticing that Severus felt a bit too warm.  
  
Remus watched the expression in his eyes carefully as he removed a layer of charmed blankets. Severus blinked slowly and rolled onto his back, almost as though were glad to be free of the weight. He had lived in the rather drafty dungeons for much of his life and had grown used to the constant cool temperatures. Remus smiled softly and smoothed the remaining blankets. Severus looked up at him and his lips moved slightly.  
  
Professor Lupin grinned as he recognized the words: "Thank you."  
  
"You are very welcome, Severus," he said with a nod.  
  
Then the vacantness returned to his colleague's eyes, which turned their attention to the canopy over the bed.  
  
Remus sighed softly and said, "Just rest, and try to think about all of us out here, would you? Hermione can't bear to lose you, and I think ... I know I would be quite sorry to see you shut up someplace for the rest of your life, as would Professor Dumbledore and the rest of our fellow professors."  
  
"You aren't upsetting him, are you?" asked Hermione as she emerged from the bath. Her tone was not a joking one.  
  
"Not that I can tell," replied Remus, leaving the bed.  
  
"Do you suppose that the house elves will bring us breakfast down here?" she questioned, seeming to accept the professor's answer.  
  
"I don't think you'll be able to get Severus to eat anything, but I don't believe they will forget about you. They actually should be along for the linens and so forth in a few hours, after breakfast has been squared away."  
  
"I believe I can manage that ..." she began to say, but Lupin cut her off.  
  
"I wouldn't recommend it, Hermione. You've used a lot of magic in the last twenty-four hours, haven't you?" he questioned.  
  
"Well, maybe a few incantations ..." she said in hesitant reply, not wanting him to worry unnecessarily.  
  
She had never realized exactly how fast Remus could be with a wand until he had his pointed at her. She was far from alarmed, but rather surprised.  
  
"_Quantum magicus!_" said Remus quickly.  
  
Hermione's hands and face tingled. She glanced down to find them glowing a muted bronze color and frowned.  
  
"I don't believe I've ever encountered that spell before," she said, looking up at Remus curiously. "What is it doing?"  
  
"It measures magic in a witch or wizard. At my age the level is far more constant. I would have to do an exceptional amount of spell casting to be affected. But at your age ... it doesn't require as much to deplete the reserves so to speak, even in a witch as talented as you are," Remus explained. "I strongly suspect that the spell was developed by a muggle-born witch or wizard in the last century or so as the colors correspond roughly to muggle traffic signals. Green is good, shades of yellow or orange are not so good, and red is bad, even dangerous."  
  
The color was beginning to fade as Hermione nodded that she understood and asked, "What should I do about it then?"  
  
"Don't cast any unnecessary spells for the next twelve to sixteen hours and try to get some rest," Remus advised with a smile.  
  
"Not even a warming charm or anything like that?" she questioned. She already knew his answer. She just wanted to know if there might be a compromise.  
  
"You will feel better and be able to more for him in the long run if you take care of yourself too."  
  
"That makes sense."  
  
"Thank you," he chuckled quietly.  
  
"Having you here has been quite comforting," she said with a small smile.  
  
"I do what I can," chuckled Remus. "Just remember to keep your chin up, Hermione." he said, turning to go.  
  
"Thank you, Remus."  
  
"Not at all," he said as she returned to her post.  
  
When Remus had left the apartment by means of the floo, Hermione felt a twinge of loneliness that she had not felt before the visit by the professor and her two friends. She was glad that they had come, especially Remus. She could see why Ginny loved him. He had led a very difficult life, but he had become stronger because of it and easily shared that strength with others.   
  
Hermione chuckled as she remembered Ron's words. It was nice to know that Severus' request had not gone unfulfilled. She wondered if Severus had known, if he had truly suspected so strongly, that something like this would happen.  
  
"Did you know, Severus, or was it merely ... bad luck?" she questioned, touching his cheek. He blinked and nothing more. "I wish I had known ..." Hermione began to say. Then she shook her head and said, "No, I don't. I would never have let you go. I don't know if I could have stopped you, but I would have tried."  
  
Severus turned his head slightly in her direction and simply stared at her for a moment. His lips moved, but he didn't make a sound.  
  
"I know," she hushed him, touching his cheek and gently stroking his hair. "And it's going to be all right." she said, though her voice quavered slightly.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was so difficult to sound reassuring. Her words had a hollow ring to them in her own ears. She hoped that they did not seem that way to Severus. She wanted to be able to comfort him, even if she could do nothing else for him.   
  
She felt so unprepared. Ever since their return from the demon realm, she had known that Severus constantly and willingly put himself in danger to serve the Order, to protect the students of Hogwarts and both the magical and muggle world. Hermione had known that he took risks. She had even seen the results of those risks. She had accepted that it was possible that he would die doing his duty. But she had never earnestly contemplated that _this_ might happen to him, that her dear Severus would be reduced to a man with empty eyes and silently moving lips, driven mad by the agony of an unforgivable curse. It still seemed so impossible.  
  
Then she heard a sound that had not graced her ears in what felt to her like eons, but was only the space of a day or a little more. She opened her eyes as Severus spoke to her.  
  
"I want to make love to you," he said to her emphatically in a hoarse voice.  
  
"Severus?" she whispered, looking searchingly into his dark eyes. There was a spark of something in them that she knew.  
  
"More or less," he replied, reaching a trembling hand toward her.  
  
Hermione grasped his hand tightly in her own and brought it to her lips as tears flooded her eyes, kissing his knuckles and trying in vain to stifle her sobs.  
  
"Severus ..." she began.  
  
"I have only moments, my beloved," he told her, interlacing his fingers in hers.  
  
Her heart pounded as he pulled her by the hand slowly toward him. Only moments? She couldn't understand what he meant. But she smiled through her tears as she realized what he had called her. Surely that was a good sign ... a sign that he knew her. It was something at least.  
  
"I want you to know that I should have done things differently. I should have kept you here that night ... when you wanted to stay," Severus told her. His eyelids drooped slightly, and his breathing seemed more labored. "I love you so much," he said in a whisper.  
  
"I love you too, Severus," she said, leaning own and kissing him upon the lips.  
  
His lips twisted into a smile beneath hers as he struggled to return the gesture of affection. The kiss was as long and as passionate as any she had ever received, not half so gentle as Severus' kissed normally were. Fearful kisses, she had once thought of them. This was nothing like those kisses, but more like the passionate one they had shared in another place, in a realm of fear and dread. A kiss of desperation.  
  
She was disappointed when Severus suddenly stopped and seemed to sigh. She felt his breath upon her lips as they parted. She opened her eyes, not even realizing that she had closed them, and found them his eyes had closed as well. They did not open again as Hermione pulled away. She brushed his hair from his forehead and squeezed the hand that she continued to hold.  
  
"Severus?" she questioned, blinking away the remnants of tears that clung stubbornly to her eyelashes.  
  
The pocket watch slipped from his fingers and landed with a dull plop upon the mattress.   
  
For a moment Hermione's breath hitched. Then she heard the soft sound of Severus breathing deeply. He had simply fallen asleep. Those few words and that kiss had required so much energy, so much strength of will from him. Hermione chuckled quietly and arranged the blankets around him again. Severus had seemed so lucid for those few moments, though perhaps not quite himself. But he had given her a sure sign that he was still there, that he was still with her.  
  
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A/N: The weirdness of Severus' statements can be explained in two ways: one, he is still delusional and 'mad'; two, the delusion might have had more of an influence than he/it would ever admit to Severus.  
  
  
jasmine Black: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Ginnyrules890: Thank you!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: I'm glad you like the delusion. Thanks for the review!  
  
Pidgie: They aren't that bad. You're welcome! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
rhitmcshanm: *blushes* Thank you for the review!  
  
LadyTiffanyAnne: Confusing? In a ... bad way? Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: Yeah, parts of it are slow. But I've always had a few reviewers who have said that some of my previous stories seemed 'rushed' and I was trying to fix that. Overcompensation maybe? Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Bridie O'Leary: I try to be original when it's at all possible. Thanks for the review!  
  
JoeBob1379: Yes, Phaedrus is dead. Unfortunately (I think). Visiting his grave is an interesting idea. I'll have to keep that in the back of my mind for later. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Luna Writer: The millionaire in the movie was named Osgood (I think) and the base player was Daphne. One of my all time favorites. I love classic movies. Thanks for sharing that (it made me smile) and for reviewing!  
  
Anndy Malfoy: Thanks!  
  
Alexial: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Emeryss Sedalia: I'm glad you like Snape's childhood. I will try to add more Remus/Ginny, but the story is kind of going where it wants to go right now. Thanks for the review!  
  
scotland the brave: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	14. In which the defenses are prepared

Chapter Fourteen  
  
In which the defenses are prepared  
  
  
  
Albus was sitting at his desk shuffling through reports and the like that had arrived by owl that morning from various sources within the Ministry of Magic when he heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. He had sent owls to many people already, including those select few Aurors, former Aurors, and other well-qualified Ministry personnel who had volunteered to defend Hogwarts in the event of an emergency. Dumbledore was expecting a few of them to show up at any time.  
  
Professor Dumbledore smiled when the first of them entered the office, the distinctive clumping sound of his wooden leg preceding him. Alastor Moody looked very grim when he entered the office, striding purposefully and quickly toward his desk. Moody was one of the people he had entrusted with the password to his office. The retired Auror had been assigned to keeping an eye on what was happening at the wizarding prison of Azkaban. But Alastor was even more of an asset for his experience and for his remaining ties to the Ministry where many of his former colleagues continued to respect and admire him, despite the incident during the year of the Triwizard Tournament during which he had been held captive for the better part of a school term.  
  
Following immediately behind Moody were Arthur and Percy Weasley, both of whom had obviously left the office that morning to be at Hogwarts. Father and son knew that Dumbledore would not have called unless attack were imminent. Many of their colleagues probably looked that two of them and saw only low level bureaucrats, and in Percy's case a good company man, loyal to the Ministry beyond all reason. But Percy had nearly lost a brother to the last assault on his former school and that had changed his mind about a few things, which had made Arthur very proud. And whether their colleagues thought very much of their abilities or not, any Weasley was a force to be reckoned with in a pinch and their greatest value was in their staunch loyalty to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.   
  
Molly Weasley was often at these meetings, but Arthur had owled her to get in touch with their other sons, the ones who were abroad, who also had volunteered to help with the defense of Hogwarts. They were probably on their way even as Arthur and Percy entered the office.  
  
Behind them came a pair of relatively young Aurors, Marie Ames and Owen Tibbs, that Moody had recruited, having known their fathers back during Voldemort's first reign of terror, and an older Auror, Arabella Figg. Ames and Tibbs had been among the first in their profession to believe the rumors that Voldemort had risen again, no small thanks to Alastor Moody, Albus believed.  
  
Arabella had been anticipating the return for many years. She had taught Defense Against the Dark Arts during the first school term after the resurrection of the Dark Lord and subsequently suffered a mild nervous break down due to the events of that year. She had spent a few months at St. Mungo's before returning to her cats and her home in Surrey. Mrs. Figg was quite willing to swear by Merlin and Circe that the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was cursed.  
  
"We might have a few more showing up later, an Obliviator and an Unspeakable, but only time will tell," said Moody rather grimly as they gathered around the headmaster's desk.  
  
"Of course," said Dumbledore, rising from his chair to greet them. "Any news before we begin?" he questioned.  
  
"I would have sent you an owl this morning, but yours arrived before I had the chance," said Alastor Moody. "It's about Azkaban," he added.  
  
Arabella and Arthur exchanged worried glances as Albus gestured for Moody to continue.  
  
"The dementors have left the prison ... We aren't certain exactly when it happened. It could have been early this morning or very late last night. There wasn't time for any of the people there, the warden or any of the hired hands, to send word," said Alastor, shaking his head. "All the witches and wizards on the island were ... well, we all know what these creatures do. They're as good as dead. The Ministry is trying to hush it up, but word gets out ... The dementors have most likely gone to join Voldemort."   
  
The younger Aurors and the Weasleys winced when he said the name, but Moody was older than any of them except Albus and Arabella, who had graduated the same year as Moody, and he remembered Tom Riddle the mere mortal, not the monster and unholy terror, and was not afraid to say the name Riddle had taken. He had, after all, opposed Voldemort and other Dark Wizards for more than fifty years.  
  
"There can be no doubt," nodded Dumbledore.  
  
"This will make what we have to do a lot harder," said Arthur uneasily.  
  
"Indeed," said Albus. "But we are well armed against the dementors, are we not?" he asked.  
  
"I've seen to it that all my people know their spells," said Alastor, glancing at Ames and Tibbs, who were quick to nod that they did.  
  
"Good," said Dumbledore. "I trust everyone knows what to do at this point," he said, looking at all of them.  
  
"Strengthen the wards and set up a perimeter," said Arthur with a grim smile that did not often come to his rather jovial face.  
  
"I suggest you all hop to it," said Moody, making it rather clear that he wanted words in private with Dumbledore. "We don't have very much time to waste," he added.  
  
As the others walked out of the office, Albus looked over his spectacles at his friend, and said, "I want to thank you for all your help with this ... and with other things."  
  
"May I be the first to congratulate you on your engagement then?" questioned Alastor with a thin, but genuine smile.  
  
"You may," Albus chuckled.  
  
"I suppose it will require some effort to make sure you see this thing through," said Moody.  
  
"To see that all of us make it through the fire that is to come," nodded Dumbledore, rubbing his eyes under his spectacles.  
  
"How soon?"  
  
"Possibly tonight."  
  
"You held off calling us then," accused Moody. "I thought we talked about that last summer ..."  
  
"Not at all. I only have suspicions."  
  
"Brought on by the lack of activity last night?"  
  
"By the lack of the _usual_ activity."  
  
"Merlin's beard, professor, you are being cryptic again!" growled Alastor Moody, staring him down with both of his eyes. It would have been enough to give an ordinary man a heart attack. Albus merely sighed softly.  
  
"Voldemort and his followers nearly tortured Professor Snape to death last night."  
  
"You don't say," said Moody. He didn't sound entirely displeased by the prospect.  
  
"Alastor, sooner or later you have to accept that he is on our side. He very nearly paid the ultimate price in order to gather information for us."  
  
"For all the good that it did us last year," said Moody.  
  
"You know there were extenuating circumstances, including the suspicions Pettigrew raised about his loyalty among the other Death Eaters."  
  
Alastor raised his hands and said, "I don't want to argue with you, Albus. We've been friends too long to be arguing now when it doesn't do anyone any good."  
  
"Thank you," said Dumbledore.  
  
"How is the blushing bride-to-be holding up?" he questioned with a very Slytherin smirk.  
  
"She will be very relieved when this is all over, and so will I," answered Dumbledore.  
  
"Confident words. We still have a battle before us, the like of which has never been seen before," Moody told him. He didn't seem to disapprove of Dumbledore's confidence. He was only making an observation that any good Slytherin would have made.  
  
"I will try to remember that," said Albus, looking over his spectacles for a moment.  
  
"I should get to work then," said Alastor.  
  
"And I should return to mine," nodded Dumbledore.  
  
Alastor turned to leave the office, but paused at the door and asked over his shoulder almost as an afterthought, "How badly did you say Snape was injured?"  
  
"Driven insane by the Cruciatus curse," replied Dumbledore from his desk.  
  
Alastor nodded slowly and left without another word. The headmaster knew that Moody still held Snape responsible for many things, for his conduct as a Death Eater, for many deaths during the dark years. Dumbledore shook his head and sighed. There was no way to tell the aging ex-Auror that Severus was not responsible for the deaths of his colleagues. He would never believe it.  
  
~  
  
Ginny Weasley had known something was wrong since breakfast, from which Hermione, Professor Snape, and Remus were absent. It was confirmed when Professor McGonagall made the announcement that potions' classes were temporarily canceled due to Professor Snape being ill. Ron and Harry had just walked into the Great Hall and taken the last empty seats at the Gryffindor table. They looked rather glum, another sure sign that all was not well with the world. Remus arrived mid way through the meal. He appeared to be lost in thought as he picked at his eggs with a morose expression on his face. That cinched it.  
  
She thought about asking her brother what was wrong, but he managed to leave the hall before she could catch up with him. She considered running after him and decided against it, knowing that Ron was never very forthcoming about anything. Ginny was smart enough to realize that whatever was wrong probably had something to do with Professor Snape, and that it was very serious if he wasn't teaching. She shivered as she began to posit all of the possible things that could have happened, many of them involving You-Know-Who.  
  
"Poor Hermione," she thought as she walked to Ancient Runes, vowing to see Remus that afternoon when classes ended. He would surely be able to tell her something. But at that point, she wasn't positive that she wanted to know. If was almost certainly something terrible.  
  
"And everyone seems so tense," she thought, watching her professor drop his wand, which he often used as a pointer during the lessons. He practically seemed to tremble with fear. "No good wondering about it now though," Ginny told herself, shaking her head slightly and trying to concentrate on what the aged professor was saying.  
  
  
Classes went by slowly for Ginny, especially the empty hour that was normally filled by potions', which was immediately before her class with Remus at the end of the day. She passed the time in library, flipping through a book on Animagus transformations and listening to two sixth year Slytherins postulate what had happened to their head of house.  
  
"I think he angered the Dark Lord," said one of the students quietly. They were both pretending to study.  
  
"I don't know," said the other skeptically. "I bet he was attacked by Aurors or something."  
  
"Could they really do that? I don't think there was anything scheduled for last night."  
  
"Are you crazy? We aren't even supposed to know about that stuff! Keep your voice down at least."  
  
"Right, right," said the more confident of the pair. Ginny could practically feel them both glance in her direction.  
  
"So ... do you think he's going to ... you know, die?" There was hint of concern in his voice.  
  
"Snape? Not a chance."  
  
Their conversation had turned to other things, like the potions' essay that was supposed to be due the following Monday and the possibility of cheating on the next Arithmancy test, and Ginny had returned to her reading for the remainder of the hour before going to Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
She was always a little happier in Remus' class, even though he never showed her any special attention or favoritism toward her. Ginny loved the class because it was something he enjoyed teaching and because no matter what they might be doing she felt safe in there with him around. Today Remus looked so tired or so worried that it could have been the day after a full moon during which he had not taking his potion. He was trying not to show it, but Ginny could tell. His lesson, a half-hearted review of a Shield Charm, was not up to his usual standard, though no one complained as it was a very useful, not to mention easy, thing to review.  
  
At the end of class, which was the last one for the afternoon, Ginny remained behind, which was not at all unusual.  
  
"What's happened?" she asked in a low voice as the other students drifted into the hall and Remus packed up his things.  
  
"Not here," he said with small sigh, rubbing his brow.  
  
"All right," she agreed before following him back to his rooms.  
  
  
Remus knew that he couldn't tell Ginny what had happened. He had only told Harry and Ron because of Hermione and because Harry had known, thanks to his scar, that something bad had happened to Professor Snape. It was better that they had been informed. They would probably have tried to break into Severus' rooms otherwise. Ginny on the other hand might be just as persistent, he believed, but she would understand when he explained the situation as best as he could. Or so he hoped.  
  
When they entered his rooms, Ginny dropped her school bag by the door before plopping down on the couch. Remus smiled as she motioned for him to join her. It was going to be difficult keeping that secret. She was not as forceful as her brother or Harry, but she had her ways.  
  
"I can't tell you what has happened to Severus, only that he is ... under the weather," said Remus before she could try and interrogate him. He felt silly using Dumbledore's own words.  
  
"You can't tell me?" she asked.  
  
"No, the headmaster doesn't want any more people than necessary knowing," he answered rather sternly.  
  
"That makes it sound rather serious," Ginny commented.  
  
"Perhaps it is," he said.  
  
"And Hermione?" she inquired.  
  
"She wanted to take care of him," Remus told her. There was no harm in Ginny knowing that. It was probably rather obvious to her.  
  
"She does that a lot, doesn't she?" questioned Ginny, thinking of the injuries Severus had suffered in the prison realm and sliding closer to Remus. He slipped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.  
  
"I suppose so," he agreed.  
  
Ginny was content to sit there for a long time, letting Remus run his fingers through her hair and resting her cheek again his chest. So many questions that she wanted to ask him ... and yet she knew that he would not willingly answer any of them. She wanted to ask him why her professors seemed so anxious, and if the next battle, perhaps the last battle, was coming soon. But she did not want to see his eyes grow any more sad or concerned than they already were.  
  
After a few minutes the gentle caressing motion of his fingers ceased. Ginny realized that he had fallen asleep. She was glad. Remus looked so tired. Maybe a little nap would fix that. She moved a little closer to before more comfortable, considering the possibility of resting her own eyes.  
  
Remus muttered incomprehensibly as she did so, forcing Ginny to stifle a small giggle. Sometimes she wondered if his years were beginning to tell on him, but she always attributed to the stress of the times and to his work in the end. After all, Remus was only five years older than her brother Bill, give or take a few months. Not old at all.  
  
"You should probably go and study or something," he said sleepily as she snuggled closer.  
  
"I want to stay with you."  
  
"Until dinner then?"  
  
"As long as you'll let me stay," she replied.  
  
"All right," he mumbled before drifting off again.  
  
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A/N: Why the OC's? Lots of reasons. The need for additional warm bodies is probably the biggest. Meh ...  
  
  
jasmine Black: Well, there's a little more Ginny (and Remus). Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: I like Remus too. Thanks for the review!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: There are actually a couple of different versions of how the previous chapter ends. I decided to be relatively nice. *wink* Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Luna: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thanks for the review!  
  
Alexial: They weren't talking. Then Phaedrus died. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Isis Malfoy: There's a bit of Remus/Ginny in this chapter, but not very much. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
LadyTiffanyAnne: Thank you!  
  
Laura: Nah, I wouldn't kill him like _that_ (even though a lot of people seem to think I would). Thanks for the review!  
  
LadySnape: Severus has a great sense of 'rules' and order (at least I think so from the books). How he _really_ got into the Death Eater business, I will always wonder. Having said that, I kind of smooshed his Ego and Superego together (into the damaged part). The Id part was a bit too non-primal (but everything always went back women for him, although perhaps too subtly). And you are totally correct about why I don't like 'weepy' characters. Astute observation. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	15. In which Severus says a goodbye

Chapter Fifteen  
  
In which Severus says a good-bye  
  
  
Some time slightly earlier in the day ...  
  
  
Hermione wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping, but it felt like hours and hours had passed when someone gently shook her by the shoulder to awaken her. She had been sleeping rather soundly, roused only once by the house elves who had come to change the linens, tidy up a bit, and provide her with breakfast. Madam Pomfrey had already informed them that Severus couldn't eat anything. They did not give her a reason why, but Hermione knew that there were potions that were more effective on an empty stomach and she also believed that Severus would not be able to eat. She had taken a few bites of poached eggs and drank a large glass of pumpkin juice while they attended the Severus, managing to take care of everything without so much as jostling the sleeping professor. But that was hours ago ...  
  
"Wake up, dear; it's time to check on our patient," said the quietly cheerful voice of Poppy Pomfrey.  
  
Hermione opened her eyes and stifled a groan, feeling just a bit disoriented.  
  
"What time is it?" she asked.  
  
"About two o'clock in the afternoon," said Madam Pomfrey, drawing her wand and waving it slowly over Severus. "Time for his next round of potions," she added as she examined him.  
  
Hermione watched her expectantly for a few moments before inquiring about his condition.  
  
"I'm sure you would be a better judge of that than me," said Poppy, placing the tip of her wand over Severus' heart to measure his pulse. "Has his mental state shown any improvement or has he been sleeping all this time?" she asked.  
  
"He was ... he seemed coherent for a few moments earlier before he fell asleep," Hermione told her.  
  
"Oh?" questioned Poppy, waiting for her to provide more information.  
  
Hermione blushed slightly as she tried to come up with a professional way of describing what had happened.  
  
"We had a short conversation, and then we kissed," she said.  
  
"I see," said Pomfrey, raising one eyebrow ever-so-slightly. "Did he seem to know where he was or was he disoriented?" she asked.  
  
"He knew who I was," said Hermione. "I am certain of that."  
  
Poppy smiled and said, "That is a very good sign, Hermione. The memory can be badly damaged by prolonged exposure to the curse, but if he remembers who you are, there is a good chance that the damage is not too severe."  
  
"Then he will recover?" she asked, feeling her hopes rise again.  
  
"Only time will tell, and it may require a very long time before he is back to normal, if that ever happens. This sort of thing ... it leaves a mark on a person. I'm sure you can understand that," said Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Of course," Hermione nodded, looking down at sleeping Severus.  
  
"But it ... it isn't always so terrible. We have more than one member of the staff who has been through something like this, although I would say from a purely medical standpoint that their experiences were not as severe."  
  
"Which ones?" asked Hermione, looking up curiously.  
  
"I can't tell you that, dear," said Madam Pomfrey, "but neither the last war nor the intervening years were without its incidents, as I am certain that you know."  
  
"And, of course, there is Harry, but he hasn't had quite the experience Severus has had," said Hermione, who was wise enough not to press the issue, though she had never suspected that other professor or members of the school's staff had been tortured under the Cruciatus curse.  
  
"That's right," Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Now, we should give Severus his medicine. It would be easier if he were awake," she said, taking a pair of bottles from her bag.  
  
"What are those, if I may ask?"  
  
Setting one bottle aside, she held up the thick gray potions and said, "This is a special anti-Cruciatus potion that Severus brews for himself. He worked for years to develop it. It isn't quite what they use at St. Mungo's, but he has a lot of faith in the mixture."  
  
"And do you ... have a lot of faith in it?" Hermione questioned, gently shaking Severus by the shoulder to awakened him. His breathing changed and his eyelids rose slightly in response.  
  
"It isn't a miracle draught, but I have seen it do a wondrous amount of good," she replied in rather matter-of-fact tones. "Sit him up for me," she instructed.  
  
Hermione slipped an arm behind Severus and pushed him into a seated position. Poppy wedged a pillow behind his back. His head lolled to one side, and he whimpered softly. Hermione put her arm behind his neck, allowing him to rest his head in the crook of her elbow, while Madam Pomfrey arranged the blankets.  
  
"If we had a set of Unrippable Robes like they have at St. Mungo's, I would suggest putting a set on him, but victims of this madness are known for shredding anything that touches their skin. I'm surprised he hasn't made an attempt at the linens," commented Poppy as she picked up the small vial of anti-Cruciatus potion.  
  
"He has been very calm," said Hermione, stroking his cheek gently before opening his mouth for Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Not everyone goes mad in the same way," she said, pouring the vial between his lips. Severus swallowed without complaint, though Hermione thought she saw a flicker of something in his half-open eyes.  
  
"I have to admit that I'm not as well versed in this particular area of knowledge as I would like to be," said Hermione. Her voice faltered. "But if you could recommend any good books on the subject ..."  
  
"I suppose there wouldn't be any harm in you reading about the condition, but ..."  
  
"I have read everything on the subject in our Defense Against the Dark Arts text book: _Know Your Curses_. But I wanted something more advanced,"  
  
"Hermione, now might not be the best time. I'm afraid that some of the things in the books I use might ... frighten you," said Poppy, picking up the second potion that she intended to give Severus. "This is a combination draught that he prefers that I keep on hand. It contains an old-fashioned Cruciatus remedy that won't interact with Severus' brew, though I well imagine that if he is capable of dreaming right now he could be having some rather interesting dreams, a mild muscle-relaxant, and a healing potion that was originally designed for Quidditch players who were struck by lightning during the aluminum broom craze," she explained.  
  
Severus made a quiet sound of protest as Hermione and Poppy administered the second potion. Hermione dutifully hushed him and continued to hold him into her arms as the mediwitch put her instruments away.  
  
"I have been told that that particular potion stings a bit going down," Madam Pomfrey told her.  
  
"Well, it was fizzing a bit," said Hermione.  
  
She started to move Severus back against his pillow to make him more comfortable, but as she began to release him, he made a piteous moaning sound. Hermione drew him close again and hushed him quietly.  
  
"Your presence comforts him, I believe," said Poppy with a muted chuckle.  
  
The mediwitch shook her head slightly at the sight of Severus Snape, who was normally so very controlled and so strong, seeming so fragile and dependent upon others. He would have been mortified.  
  
"I only wish I could do more for him," said Hermione, combing her fingers through his long hair.  
  
"Nonsense. You are doing plenty for him," said Poppy, watching Hermione shift her weight slightly and pulled Severus closer. "Few Cruciatus patients respond this well. Some part of the praise for that goes to you and how well you've handled the situation and have handled him," she added.  
  
"Thank you," said Hermione quietly.  
  
"I suppose I should let you know," said Pomfrey almost as an afterthought, "that the headmaster is anticipating a strike against the castle sometime soon. Possibly even tonight."  
  
Hermione looked up sharply and repeated, "Tonight?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then ... I ... What should I do? I have agreed to fight ..."  
  
"I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore would want someone to stay with Severus," she said.  
  
"But Harry and the others ... I cannot abandon them."  
  
"Hermione, I can't tell you what to do in this matter. The dungeons are well warded. If you chose to make a stand with your peers, he would be safe. But if you didn't return to him, I know almost for a fact that it would destroy him," said Poppy.  
  
"If I don't answer the call ..." she said quietly, looking into Severus' eyes and having the feeling that he was listening to every word she said. "How would I ever be able to look him in the eye again?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly, conceding her point, but knew of no advice that she could offer her fellow Gryffindor.  
  
"There is time yet to think upon what is to come," she said quietly before leaving Hermione and Severus.  
  
~  
  
  
Their conversation had gone on for a very long time. So long in fact that Severus had begun to pace in the darkness. His memories were returning to him, both the bad and the good, but still he felt confused, lost, and incomplete, and the delusion of his father Phaedrus remained with him during every last bit of it, talking him through what he saw and remembered and all those things that he did not understand. There remained between them only one final point of contention: the Death Eater robes that Snape wore.  
  
"I have spoken with her, you know," said Phaedrus during a lull in their long discussion.  
  
"With ... Hermione?" questioned Severus. The name had been dearly bought in painful recollections, but it still did not come easily to him.  
  
"Yes," nodded Phaedrus with a smile that Severus was liking less by the minute.  
  
"How is that possible?" he questioned.  
  
"How are you and I speaking at this very moment?" he countered.  
  
"You are a delusion, and I am mad. We've been over that a dozen times," Severus snapped, coming to a halt directly in front of Phaedrus.  
  
"Actually, you aren't really all that mad anymore. This ... this is not quite the thing that it was," said Phaedrus, gesturing around him at the blackness surrounding them both.  
  
"You won't answer my question," said Severus.  
  
"How about this? Passion finds a way."  
  
"All right."  
  
"You know how much she loves you, do you not, Severus?" he inquired.  
  
Severus looked away uncertainly and replied, "Yes, but don't understand how ..."  
  
"I don't want to hear that again! We have been at this for hours. Yes, you made some mistakes in your life, but that certainly isn't a reason for a lifetime of self-induced misery."  
  
"You wouldn't understand," said Severus shortly. "I provided him ... Voldemort with any potion that he asked for, never considering the end results of my actions, only sating my lust for power and forbidden knowledge."  
  
"There are worse motives, you know, than a thirst for knowledge. You were never a sadist. You never _enjoyed_ seeing anyone suffer," defended Phaedrus.  
  
"Do my motives really matter so much when the end results were the same?"  
  
"If your motivations had not been so ... for lack of a better word, so pure, you would never have changed sides. You would have remained with Voldemort until the bitter end, and we would not be having this conversation right now."  
  
"But ..." Severus began.  
  
"Listen to me. She loves you and believes in you. Isn't that enough? Right now she is holding you in her arms. This instant she is contemplating what her part in the next battle with Voldemort shall be, using you as the standard by which to measure her own conduct. Your past does not taint her love for you," said Phaedrus, his patience beginning to wear thin.  
  
"Must I truly deal with this matter now?"  
  
"I insist," said Phaedrus.  
  
Severus hesitated as he looked down at the heavy black robes, so familiar to him and at the same time a source of both pain and humiliation that he felt would never abate. His hands trembled as he reached for the clasp at his throat.  
  
"Help me," Severus whispered.  
  
"I can't. This is something that you must do for yourself," said Phaedrus.  
  
Severus took a deep breath and slowly began unbuttoning the robes. Each button seemed easier to unfasten than the last, but Severus could not remember a task more difficult than removing that simple, symbolic article of clothing. As the robes slipped from his shoulders, he felt as though he were shedding a second skin. And it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from him. For a moment the robes seemed to puddle around his feet. Then they vanished into the darkness.  
  
"It is done," said Severus, looking down at his bare skin. He touched his left arm in surprise, finding that the Mark was not there.  
  
"And you have done very well," said Phaedrus in an approving tone that his father had never used. "Your body out there may still be marked, but in here you are no longer so contaminated," he said, tapping his own forehead and smiling.  
  
"Now what?" asked Severus, suddenly glancing around as though expected his surroundings to change as they so often had. He felt somewhat exposed and perhaps a little afraid. But, and perhaps this was what frightened him the most, he also felt hopeful about his prospects for the future.  
  
"I can only offer you one more thing, Severus. I don't know if it is welcome, but I know that you regret not going to your father when you left Voldemort ..." said Phaedrus, holding out his arms to Severus.  
  
He looked at the delusion for a moment, understanding that he was attempting to give him peace with his father, who had been dead for many years, and stepped forward, nodding that he accepted the gift, such that it was. Phaedrus enveloped him in his arms, pulling him close. Severus felt tears fill his eyes as he realized how much he missed the man who had helped make him the person that he was. Phaedrus rubbed his back in slow circles, hushing and soothing him.  
  
"I'm sorry," Severus whispered, resting his head on his shoulder.  
  
"He knew, Severus, and for all his faults, I believe that he loved you as well as he was able," the delusion told him gently.  
  
Severus wasn't certain how long they stood there like that, but he began to feel sleepy, truly drowsy, for the first time since he had first found himself trapped within his own mind.  
  
"You need to go to sleep now, Severus. We ... you have done all that you can. Now you need to rest. I don't know how long you will sleep, but nothing more can be done here," Phaedrus told him.  
  
"Thank you ... for everything," said Severus sleepily, not quite understanding.  
  
There was a soft chuckle in his ear and a light kiss on his forehead. Then he was aware that the delusion of his father was no longer with him and that he seemed to be floating. He felt lonely for a moment. Then the moment passed and Severus fell asleep and knew no more.  
  
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A/N: I have had a lot of trouble accessing my account (which should be no surprise), so this is being uploaded later than I had planned.  
  
  
Pidgie: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: *winces* The battle ... um, that could be a problem. But thanks for the suggestion and the review!  
  
Ginnyrules890: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Luna Writer: Thank you!  
  
Lily of the Shadow: Thank you for the review!  
  
JoeBob1379: Well, not really. I don't think ... Thanks for the review!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Laura: I am really pleased that you liked Moody. He has recently become one of my favorite characters. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  
April 9th (today) is my one year fan-fiction-writing anniversary.  
  
  



	16. In which the final hours pass

Chapter Sixteen  
  
In which the final hours pass  
  
  
  
Night had fallen over Hogwarts, but after the announcement Dumbledore had made that evening after dinner, many of the students could not sleep. Of course, a good number of them had already seen the Aurors and other Ministry people milling around the grounds, including the greater portion of the Weasley family. But that didn't make what Dumbledore told them any less frightening.  
  
"May I have your attention for an announcement," he had said, standing up at the Head Table. "Due to information the faculty has received concerning the activities of Lord Voldemort and his followers, we have reason to believe that the castle will be attacked in the near future, possibly even tonight or tomorrow. Certainly very soon."  
  
Whispering had broken out across the Great Hall. Ginny had looked to Harry and her brother, but they were staring sullenly at their empty dinner plates. A great weight was upon Harry because he was the one expected to defeat the Dark Lord. She had glanced at the aging ex-Auror by the door, who had declined to eat at the table with the faculty for reasons she could not guess, and shivered. This was not a drill. This was not a test. This was not part of the preparations. This was the real thing.  
  
"Quiet, please," said Dumbledore. "It is important that we do not panic. Preparations have been made, as you all know, for the safety of the school and for you, the students. If everyone does what is expected of them, we will be able to defend our school and home as it was defended last spring."  
  
Here Ginny noticed several Ravenclaw students looking at an empty chair at their table, the one that they left symbolically unfilled each evening. For several years a place had remained open for Cedric Diggory at the Hufflepuff table as well.  
  
"All of those students who have gallantly volunteered to participate in the defense of the castle are advised to be prepared to take their positions at a moment's notice. The younger students, years first through fourth, are likewise advised to remember that they are not under any circumstances to leave the designated safe areas of the castle for any reason once the battle has begun and are to obey the fifth year prefects of their houses who will be assisting them."  
  
There it was: the reason that Ginny and many of her friends had refused to enter the prefecture last year. They wanted to fight for their house and along side their friends instead of playing nursemaids to the younger students. She glanced at the two fifth years with that duty and wondered what had made them choose that route. She didn't think it was cowardice, but perhaps caution. Not that what they would be doing was unimportant, but she thought the greater good would have been better served by making the Hufflepuffs prefects, all of them, responsible for the younger students. They were better suited to the job.  
  
"I am very proud of all of you and know that all of the students of this school will do their best to see that it still stands at the end of our war with Voldemort. Now, please return to your dormitories for the evening and try not to worry too much about what is to come," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Easy for him to say," muttered Ron quietly as they filed out of the hall.  
  
But that had been hours ago. No one was sleeping in Gryffindor Tower. They had all gathered very quietly in the common room. The first years, and there were fewer of them than ever before because some parents had chosen to keep their young children at home that year to protect them, were crowded together on a pair of couches, dozing, but too afraid to go sleep in their rooms. They had heard stories from older students and siblings about the terror of the last battle.  
  
The first years were not alone. Many of the older Gryffindors, second year through seventh, looked grim and haunted by what they knew was coming. Ginny was curled up in an over-stuffed chair in a corner for a long time, watching her house mates, trying to memorize their faces, trying to make sure that she would be able to remember any of them lost in the fight ahead. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her knees. Were they doing the same thing in the Hufflepuff common room? The Ravenclaw? The Slytherin? She had to wonder.  
  
Ginny looked at Neville Longbottom sitting in another corner of the room with Lavender Brown by his side, resting her head on his shoulder. They looked uncommonly sad, but resolute and determined too. Ready for anything, she imagined. Two boys and another girl from her year were playing a subdued game of Gobstones. Dean and Seamus were flipping through a stack of photographs with the Creevey brothers, who seemed far less troubled than most of their house mates. Parvati Patil was seated on the rug in front of the fire with an inscrutable look on her face. Ginny imagined that her twin was doing the same thing. Ron and Harry were trying to enjoy a game of chess, but it didn't seem as though their hearts were in it.  
  
She couldn't stand the waiting. It was worse than anything. The anticipation was like an acid slowly eating away at the edge of their nerves and even at the edge of their legendary Gryffindor courage. Ginny hated it. She slipped from her chair and made her way unobtrusively to the portrait hole. If anyone noticed, they chose to say nothing. She intended to walk to the bottom of the Tower and back, just far enough to stretch her legs and clear her head before returning to her comrades.  
  
The castle was strangely quiet, almost as though it were holding its breath, as she walked quietly down the stairs. The silence was uncomfortable and very nearly palatable. It reminded her of the prison realm, causing her breath to hitch slightly as she reached a landing.  
  
"Who goes there?" asked a growling voice in the shadows.  
  
She felt a wand tip touch just below her right ear and froze in her tracks.  
  
"Ginny Weasley," she stammered as her heart began to beat wildly in her chest.  
  
A rough hand grabbed her by the front of her robes, pulling her toward a nearby window. She could not see the person who had grabbed her until they were bathed in the soft light of the waning moon. Ginny gasped in surprise when she saw that it was none other than Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, and he did not look pleased. Of course, she had never seen him looking pleased, so that wasn't so terrible.  
  
He studied her for a moment before releasing her robes.  
  
"And what are you doing out at this time of night, Miss Weasley?" he questioned, not quite lowering his wand.  
  
"I was ... no one could sleep ... and the waiting. I needed some air," she tried to explain, suddenly feeling very small and a bit childish.  
  
"Is that so?" he asked, looking at her very carefully with both of his eyes.  
  
"Yes, sir," she answered with a slight shiver.  
  
Moody almost reluctantly put his wand away, satisfied by her replies to his questions, but cautious nonetheless. He put a heavy hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Are you frightened, lass?" he asked her in a low voice.  
  
She looked up at him and said, "Maybe a little. I don't want to lose any of my friends ... I don't want anyone to die when the battle comes."  
  
"Of course not," he said, nodding. "And I've heard rumor that you have a - what do you young folks call 'em? - a suitor, for lack of a better word, who's going to be pretty heavily involved in the fighting when it starts."  
  
Ginny's eyes widened. Was it that obvious? Or had Remus told him? In any event she was very surprised that he knew.  
  
"I suppose I do," she admitted hesitantly.  
  
"Your father know about him?" asked Moody with a thin smile. He laughed as her mouth dropped open. "I'll take that as a 'no'," he laughed quietly. "Don't worry yourself, lass, once this is all over ... you can tell Arthur yourself and with all the excitement, he might even be pleased. People act real strange after a war ends," he said.  
  
"Then you think we're going to win?" she questioned.  
  
"You can't walk into something like this believing that you can't succeed, or it will turn out to be true. That's just the way it works," Alastor told her.  
  
"I'll try to remember that," she said.  
  
"Best advice I can give you. Other than constant vigilance. You can never go wrong with that," he said.  
  
Ginny smiled as she realized how different the authentic Alastor Moody could be from the person who had impersonated him during her third year. This man was somewhat softer spoken, though she could understand why people said some of the things that they did about him.  
  
She was suddenly aware of change in the light coming from outside and turned toward the window. There was a greenish tinge to the clouds hanging over the wizarding village of Hogsmeade.  
  
"Whatever is that?" she questioned aloud.  
  
Moody turned toward the window and frowned as he told her, "That's all we can see from here of a Dark Mark over Hogsmeade. It seems that tonight will be exactly what we have been bargaining for."  
  
Ginny trembled and felt sick as she thought of the residents of the village being set upon by a band of Dark Wizards.  
  
Alastor put an arm around her shoulders and held her to him for just a brief moment before telling her, "Go back to your dormitory, Miss Weasley, and wait for the signals. Try not to panic the younger students."  
  
An instant later he was clumping heavily, but speedily down the stairs and she was racing back up them with her heart in her throat.  
  
~  
  
Albus Dumbledore awoke to the sound of someone loudly pounding on the door of his chambers. He hastily put his spectacles on, grabbed his wand from the bedside table, and with a wave of the magical instrument, was ready to face the battle ahead. He smoothed his official robes, the attire he had chosen for the occasion, and took a deep breath before opening the door. When he saw Moody standing outside, he knew with some certainty that the time had come.  
  
"They're in Hogsmeade," said Alastor bluntly.  
  
"Have Fred and George Weasley reported in?" asked Albus, knowing that the two young men had set up shop in the village a little more than a year ago. They were part of the first line of defense if the Dark Lord's minions chose to attack the castle from that direction.  
  
"Not that I am aware of," said Moody with a grim expression on his face.  
  
"Time to sound the alarm then," said Albus, looking equally somber as he closed the door of his chambers and led Alastor into his office. "But before that I have one last thing that I must get for Harry," he explained.  
  
Alastor knew better than to rush the older man, his former transfigurations' professor and long-time friend, but he felt a sense of urgency that the headmaster simply did not seem to share. It could be mere minutes when the assault on the wards and the castle gates began. Everyone needed to be in position and prepared to fight by that time. If they were still scrambling when the defenses were breached ... then it would be just as bad as the last assault upon Hogwarts despite all of their efforts.  
  
Dumbledore lifted the sword of Godric Gryffindor from his desk and weighed it carefully in his hands. Harry had used it to some great effect against the Basilisk nearly five years early. He had not held a blade, insofar as Dumbledore knew, since then, but he wanted the young champion to be armed with more than just his wand and his wits. He wanted Harry to have every possible advantage when Voldemort came for him.  
  
Moody looked at the antique sword dubiously. This was the thing delaying the headmaster?  
  
"Albus ..." he said impatiently.  
  
"He is mortal now, you know," said Professor Dumbledore, referring to Voldemort.  
  
"Can young Mister Potter use it?" Moody questioned as he continued to eye the sword.  
  
"Yes, and he proved that long ago, Alastor," he said, nodding and taking the sword by the hilt. "It is time," he said, leading Alastor from the office.  
  
~  
  
Hermione shivered when she heard the prearranged signal, a clanging tone that reverberated through the castle. She had been dreading it for hours, knowing that it was only a matter of time. And now it was time to go, time to leave Severus and join her friends. It was the only course of action she could take. She straightened her robes as she left the bed, lingering next to her dear Severus for a moment and tucking the blankets around him one last time. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them away hurriedly. This was not a time for sentimentality.  
  
"Severus, love. I'm going to leave you for a while. But I intend to come back ... to return just as soon as possible," she said quietly. "Stay safe," Hermione whispered, leaning down to kiss him.  
  
His eyes were only slightly open. Severus was resting quietly, but not sleeping. He made a soft sighing sound as she kissed his forehead, then the bridge of his hooked nose, and finally his lips. They responded as though automatically, making her smile a bit. Her heart pounded for an instant as she wondered if that would be the last time she kissed him, if she were going to her own death.  
  
"Well, I'll just have to make sure that if I do die tonight that I die bravely," Hermione thought with a certain bravado that only a Gryffindor could manage.  
  
She took a deep breath, drew her wand, and smiled a trembling smile at the man she loved before telling him, "Good-bye, Severus."  
  
Hermione left the apartment, warding the entrance against invasion before she got ready to leave. The sound of approaching students made her smile grimly. Ravenclaws, led by the fifth year prefects, marched double-time through the dungeon corridor. She stayed out of their way as they passed with Mister Filch bringing up the rear. He would have been useless outside, but in the dungeons among the Ravenclaw evacuees, who had left their tower for the safety that could be found below ground, and among the Slytherin denizens he could help keep the peace. The younger Gryffindors were likewise taking shelter in the seclusion of the Hufflepuff dormitories.   
  
The old caretaker glanced at her and nodded.  
  
"Good luck," he growled in a low voice.  
  
"Thank you," she replied, vaguely surprised, but then if the Death Eaters made it passed the defenders outside and into the dungeons, what hope did he have for survival, being a Squib?  
  
After Mister Filch and his charges had passed, Hermione turned and left the dungeons, dashing to make it to her assigned position and mentally preparing herself for the battle to come. It was going to be a long night.  
  
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A/N: I know. Most people expected her to stay with Snape. But she _is_ a Gryffindor!  
  
  
Michelle: I know who you are. *grins* I'm glad you liked Phaedrus. He was a lot of fun to write. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Jasmine Black: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Enfleurage: The other faculty members who had been subjected to the curse isn't a major plotline (actually, it was going to be, but, um, things happen while I was writing and ... yeah). Oh, and one of my favorite quotes: "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one." (I'm a Trekkie psycho.) Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Thanks for the review!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: I love that scene from the FotR movie. *starts to grumble about book accuracy and 'canon', but stops* Sorry about that ... Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
agnessa: Thank you for the review!  
  
Witchy-grrl: *giggles* Green and silver pom-poms? Awesome! Thanks for the reviewing!  
  
Ginnyrules890: Erm, I'm not sure if I will be able to get back to Ginny and Remus soon or not. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Ezmerelda: I really appreciate the comment about the pace of the story. Thanks for the reviews!  
  
maridale3: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Laura: Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	17. In which everything is set in motion

Chapter Seventeen  
  
In which everything is set in motion  
  
  
  
A thin mist was beginning to roll in from the Dark Forest, and as Dumbledore glanced at the clouds overhead, he knew that it would not be long before it began to rain. Whether that would be an advantage or disadvantage to them, he could not say. Looking into the eyes of his companions, Moody and his pair of Aurors and Arabella Figg, he could see that they too were busy sizing up the situation as students rushed by them to take their assigned places. The clouds over Hogsmeade still reflected the poisonous green color of the Dark Mark in the sky.  
  
Albus smiled softly as he watched Minerva approaching, holding up the hem of her robes as she trod across the damp grass. She had shepherded most of her students into their places, giving them last words of advice and encouragement. But trailing in her wake were two proud young lionesses with their wands drawn: Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.   
  
"Bill and Charlie Weasley have reported sighting dementors. They are approaching the castle from northwest. Do we have a plan for this eventuality?" questioned Minerva crisply.  
  
Moody and Dumbledore exchanged glances. This was a well-coordinated attack.  
  
"The forest is covered as is the gate and the Quidditch pitch where the wards are most likely to be breached. I am afraid that the wall on that side of the castle is not so well defended," answered Albus.  
  
"Then we shall attend to it," said Minerva.  
  
"Are you certain?" he questioned.  
  
"We won't let you down, professor," said Ginny before Professor McGonagall could answer.  
  
"They won't be missed at the gate, and someone must look to it," added Minerva, feeling a swell of pride at her student's quick reply.  
  
"Very well," nodded Albus. "But be careful. All of you. You know what those creatures are capable of," he added. His eyes lingered perhaps a moment too long on Minerva.  
  
Hermione resisted the urge to shiver as strode across the lawn in the direction of the wall where they suspected the dementors would attempt to gain entrance to the school grounds.  
  
Dumbledore watched them go before looking at his companions.  
  
"Will they need reinforcements?" asked Ames, the younger of the two Aurors.  
  
"Perhaps, if we can find them," said Albus, turning his attention back toward the doors of the school for a moment, just in time to see Harry and Ron racing down the steps.  
  
They had been assisting with the evacuation of their dormitory, which was proceeding more slowly than planned.  
  
"Sir," called Harry, before coming to a stop, "is everything ready?"  
  
"Almost," he replied, taking the sword of Gryffindor from where it rested. "This is for you, Harry," he said, presenting it hilt first to the young wizard.  
  
Harry smiled rather grimly as he took it.  
  
"I hope it proves as useful as when I last had the chance to wield it, sir," he said, examining the edge of the fine blade.  
  
"As do I," said Dumbledore. "Are you ready?"  
  
"As ready as I can be, professor," Harry replied.  
  
"Me too," said Ron, taking his wand from his pocket.  
  
"Professor Lupin is waiting for us at the gate. I suggest that we all take our places. It should not be long now," Dumbledore told them, glancing at Moody and Figg as well.  
  
"Good luck," growled Alastor quietly, clapping both Harry and Ron on the shoulders before clumping away with his Aurors toward the Dark Forest.  
  
Figg pursed her lips slightly and said to Dumbledore, "When this is all over, Albus, I expect you to tell me everything about you and McGonagall."  
  
"Gladly," said Albus with a bemused expression, though his eyes remained serious.  
  
She nodded once before quickly walking toward the Quidditch pitch, one of the greatest weaknesses in Hogwarts' defensive spells.  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged glances and managed to smile slightly despite the tension before following Dumbledore toward the castle gates where they would stand in defiance of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Ron found himself unexpectedly thinking of Durmstrang.  
  
"But that won't happen here," he thought as he walked behind Harry and the headmaster.  
  
~  
  
Ginny and Hermione could almost feel a change in the air as they passed the school greenhouses. They had been standing with their head of house when Ginny's older brothers had brought the news after a quick reconnaissance ride on their brooms. They had not anticipated an attack by the dementors of Azkaban, especially one of the opposite direction as the main forces of Voldemort, which they now believed to include several giants and a number of werewolves who had taken oaths of loyalty and obedience to the Dark Lord in retribution against the Ministry of Magic and its harsh rules governing their lives.  
  
The air seemed to grow colder and smell slightly sour. There could be no doubt that something evil, or rather a lot of evil things were coming their way. Ginny pulled her cloak closer about her shoulders against the chill and the unpleasant feeling that was creeping into her stomach. How close were the dementors? They felt as though they were very near, but then there would be a great many of them as all of Azkaban had been emptied. She glanced at Hermione and saw that she was already turning pale. Professor McGonagall who stood between the two students looked as determined as ever, or else she was better at masking her fear.  
  
"How will they get through the wards and the walls, professor?" asked Hermione. She wiped her sleeve across her forehead as she spoke. She was sweating despite the coldness in the air.  
  
"The wards may impede their progress, but as for the walls ... they have ways of getting through them," answered Minerva.  
  
She was proud of the two girls. When she had said that she would need at least two others to stand against the dementors, they had not hesitated for an instant. Hermione and Ginny had simply drawn their wands and exchanged a determined look before nodding that they would go with her. The two elder Weasleys brothers had appeared for a moment to have the strong desire to dissuade their sister, but both had held their tongues on the matter, speaking only to wish Ginny good luck.  
  
"Remember, ladies, you need good, strong happy memories in order to fight these creatures. I suggest that you collect them now before the dementors begin to affect us," she advised them.  
  
"I've never conjured a Patronus," Ginny admitted.  
  
"Me neither," said Hermione.  
  
"It isn't easy, but it's our only weapon against our foes," Minerva reminded them. "I know that both of you are perfectly capable of conjuring one, or I would not have brought you with me."  
  
~  
  
Remus was staring down the path that led to Hogsmeade when Dumbledore, Harry, and Ron arrived. The gates were just being shut as a matter of course. Once the wards were breached, the Dark Wizards would either apparate onto the grounds or take out the sturdy wooden gate with a blasting curse. In either case closing the gate was more symbolic than strategic. It was a sign that they would not go down without a fight.  
  
He turned toward the Dark Forest for a moment, watching a large number of students gathering there with Hagrid, Alastor Moody and company, and Professor Sprout. The majority of the professors had been divided between the pitch and the gate. The werewolves, he surmised, would choose the forest route. It was the one that he himself would have chosen if he were on the other side.  
  
The school grounds flickered with magical torch light that kept the darkness and shadows at bay. They were beginning to sizzle as dew started to collect. Remus could smell a hint of rain in the air. It would begin drizzling soon. The grounds would become a muddy battlefield.  
  
"Is everyone in place here, Remus?" asked Dumbledore, watching the young professor's face as he grew very somber.  
  
"They seem to be. I heard that Minerva and ... Ginny and Hermione will be keeping the dementors at bay for us," he hesitated. Remus had wanted very much to have Ginny by his side, somewhere that he could hope to protect her during the battle, but that was not to be.  
  
"With some luck they should be able to make their bargain with Voldemort unprofitable and drive them away," nodded Albus, watching Harry as he tucked the sword away within his robes and took out his wand.  
  
Harry looked at the crowd of students standing on either side of the gate, divided into ranks and standing in almost stony silence with their wands at ready. He smiled as he noticed that his fellow Gryffindors seemed less anxious and more alert than many of their peers. Some of them had been groomed for two terms for this battle. Not that Ravenclaw, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff students had not been ... They simply had not taken to the weekend training exercises with the same relish as their peers from the house of scarlet and gold. Even Neville Longbottom looked ready for a fight, and that was saying something.  
  
Harry spied Professors Vector and Sinistra standing among the students. Aging Vector leaned down and whispered into Sinistra's ear. The Slytherin professor, who had turned the younger students to which she was temporarily head of house over to Mister Filch and the prefects, gave a jerking nod and frowned. Harry would have given a pile of galleons to know what they were talking about. He knew that some of the Slytherin, and perhaps even Ravenclaw, students could not be trusted as they had joined the enemy. Most of these students, including Malfoy and his 'bodyguards', were standing among the students to the left of the gate. He could not understand why Dumbledore had not locked them in the dungeons.  
  
Then he smiled and realized that Vector and Sinistra had probably been advised of that situation and would dispatch them at the first sign of treachery. It would give those falsely accused a chance to prove themselves.  
  
Harry caught a glimpse of red hair flashing in the flickering torch light. Bill and Charlie were just joining another group of students. No time remained for reconnoitering on their brooms. Harry was glad to have them there at the gate with them. Bill had, according to what Ron had said during the evacuation, left Egypt in a hurry to join them. Just as Charlie had left his precious dragons to be a part of the stand against Voldemort. Their presence comforted him. And he could see that Ron felt the same way. Their parents were with the professors and students at the Quidditch pitch while Percy had elected to make his stand at the edge of the forest. If only Fred and George were there too ...  
  
There was a soft rumbling sound in the distance. Harry and Ron looked at Dumbledore and Lupin expectantly.  
  
"I believe they have nearly finished with Hogsmeade. They will turn their attention to their main objective soon," said Dumbledore regretfully. It had been decided a long time ago that both the village and the school could not be defended by their meager forces. Hogsmeade had to come second in their priorities. It was an unfortunate necessity of war.  
  
~  
  
Severus felt something soft and warm beneath him. It felt good and familiar. He was no longer floating and that comforted him somehow. He flexed his fingertips and felt a soft material underneath them. Everything was so warm, so pleasant. He caressed the fabric for several minutes with his eyes closed and smiled. This was wonderful.  
  
Sensation began to return to his body slowly, just a little bit at a time. He knew that he was lying in a bed with blankets piled around him and a soft pillow positioned just so under his head. He wiggled his toes. It was such a relief to him to be able to do those simple things. It seemed to him as though eons had passed since his senses had functioned properly, since he had been able to experience the world outside his mind.  
  
He opened his eyes very cautiously. The world was so bright! He recognized his canopied bed and his home in the dungeons. It came into focus gradually. He was glad it did not overwhelm him as he feared for a moment that it would. Severus breathed deeply, savoring the breath, the soft scent of potions' ingredients coming from the other room and of a fire in the hearth that had burned low. The deep inhalation made him aware of a taste upon his lips, a potion that had been given to him hours before. It was almost deliciously sweet.  
  
He was content to remain there for a long while, feeling both a little sleepy and quite snug, until a nagging little thought began to pull at his newly conscious mind. Something important was going on. Something that he was expected to take part in. Something that had taken his beloved from his side. He wasn't certain exactly what it was. It worried him a bit, though he was not entirely certain why.  
  
Severus turned his head to the side and looked toward the door, wondering if she would be away from him for very long. He wanted to see her very much, to tell her that he was feeling better and that he loved her. Severus wanted those things more than anything he could imagine.  
  
His eyes fell on the stand by the bed. A wand was laying there. It required a moment of thought for him to realize that it was his wand. Poppy Pomfrey had removed it from his robes and placed it there, though Severus certainly did not know that.  
  
He reached toward the wand, but his arm felt very heavy, as though it were made of lead. He sighed softly and gave up for the moment as he continued to wrack his brain concerning what was going on.  
  
There was a mild tremor, so slight in fact that were his senses not strangely heightened, possibly as a side effect of the potions he had been given, Severus might not have noticed it. His eyes widened as it subsided. Was that a blasting curse?  
  
"Impossible," he thought to himself.  
  
His pulse quickened as a word flitted through his brain.  
  
"War," he whispered out loud in a thick voice.  
  
Severus strained for a moment, pushing the covers aside and exposing his skin to the cooler air of the dungeon. He felt even more awake and alive as the chill brushed against his skin. But he was also weak and knew it. A medical professional would have been horrified by the idea of him leaving the bed. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey was in the hospital wing preparing to receive casualties once the fighting got underway, and Severus was alone.  
  
He took his wand from the stand and looked at it for a moment. He knew what was required of him. A battle, he surmised, was being fought outside the castle. It was his duty to fight against the forces of darkness. The time had come when he could at last show his true colors.  
  
"And Hermione is out there," he reminded himself, easing his legs off the bed and his feet onto the floor with his wand grasped tightly in one hand.  
  
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A/N: Busy chapter. I don't think it flowed very well, but so many things had to happen. Oh, and about the school grounds ... I've seen eight different drawings/maps of them, the CoS video game (at which I suck), and then there's the way I pictured the grounds while reading the books. So chances are, everyone is running in the wrong direction at some point. Sorry.  
  
  
Jasmine Black: You knew she would fight? That's awesome, because I sat there for a long time, trying to decide. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Thank you!  
  
Ginnyrules890: *grin* I'm glad you agree with that! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Will I ever say? No, probably not in this story. Thank you for the review!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: Edge of your seat? Thanks! I appreciate that!  
  
Alexial: I think I answered your question. I'm glad you like Moody. He's fun to write. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Luna: The meanest? Really? Thank you for reviewing!  
  
BLV: Exams? You have my sympathy! Thanks for the review!  
  
JoeBob1379: Thank you for the review!  
  
LadySnape: I believe I answered your question (sort of) in this chapter. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
  



	18. In which there is fighting

Chapter Eighteen  
  
In which there is fighting  
  
  
  
No one had expected the wards to give way so quickly, but neither Lord Voldemort nor his followers had been idle during the year that had passed between battles. Chaos erupted the moment the gates were breached. The explosion lifted a few students from their feet. There were Death Eaters in their midst in an instant and not only in the area of the gate, but throughout the grounds, which had erupted into a battleground. Smoke began to fill the air as the Dark Wizards began casting blasting curses willy-nilly across the grounds, the wizarding equivalent of heavy artillery fire. Showers of sparks and flame burst into the air, obscuring everything from view, and hissing in the damp night air.  
  
But the assault did not merely come from one side nor from a single force. The defenders at the edge of the Dark Forest had to deal with the werewolves who had sworn allegiance to Voldemort. The moon that night was hardly a sliver in the sky far behind the clouds, meaning that their foes were in human form, but that did not render them powerless. Many of these men and women had been educated in secret and were capable wizards formerly of good families. Voldemort had armed them and even trained some of them in the Dark Arts, making them a force to be reckoned with, and not just a motley group of haggard-looking wizards and witches in tell-tale shabby robes. And they used the forest eaves to their advantage as they fired curses at the students and professor who were defending that front.  
  
On the Quidditch pitch Arabella Figg, Molly and Arthur Weasley, and all of the others assigned to the area found themselves facing half a dozen rampaging giants that made Rubeus Hagrid seem very much like a small child compared to them in both size and temperament. Stunning spells were no deterrent at all to these massive foes, being only as potent as stinging flies to their club wielding adversaries. Debris was flying through the air as the giants swung their weapons, leveling the pitch in a matter of moments and driving back the wizards and witches selected to defend it. Even their best efforts were only slowing the giants slightly. But they were beginning to regroup as the giants waded through the rubble they had made of the stands and Quidditch goals. The defenders would not back down easily.  
  
~  
  
In a more remote corner of the grounds, Ginny, Minerva, and Hermione were preparing to face the dementors. The air had grown so cold that they could see the vapor of their breath in the air. Ginny and Hermione were both beginning to tremble as unpleasant and frightening memories began to enter their minds unbidden. For Ginny it was finding herself in the Chamber of Secrets with Harry, who had been wounded by the Basilisk. That had been one of the worst moments of her young life. But Hermione unwillingly dwelled upon the night in the Shrieking Shack during her third year when Harry, Ron, and she had cast Expelliarmus on Professor Snape. For a moment that night she had been certain they had killed him. Hermione shook her head to clear it and looked up at Professor McGonagall.  
  
"They must be close," said Hermione in a quiet voice that barely carried over the distant sounds of the battle that raged on the other side of the school.  
  
"Close enough to affect us," McGonagall agreed with a slight nod. Her lips were set in a grim line as she struggled to push her recollections of the war against Grindelwald to the back of her mind.  
  
Then they saw them. Hermione wasn't quite sure how they managed it, whether the robed and hooded forms of the dementors had passed through the walls or whether they had used some form of apparition in the absence of the wards. One minute there was nothing there. The next minute they were staring at a cluster of dementors, the number of which seemed to be swelling by the second. And they were moving toward them with slow, gliding steps.  
  
"Now!" said McGonagall as they stepped backward and pointed their wands toward the advancing dementors.  
  
Hermione took a deep breath and thought of the first time she had kissed Severus, certainly one of her better memories, despite the circumstances in which it had occurred. Her heart pounded at the very memory of his lips and the tears that had been in his eyes.  
  
"_Expecto Patronum_!" she yelled, attempting to draw strength from the memory.  
  
Hermione bit back a gasp when a silvery gray snake-like form was emitted from the tip of her wand. It reminded her of an Ashwinder, if the glowing eyes were any indication. The Patronus, as it hung suspended in the air before her, turned for a moment, seemed to wink at her, and dove straight at the dementors with an almost inaudible hiss. She did not happen to register the look on her head of house's face, which was probably for the best.  
  
It was Ginny who cried out the spell next, though her voice was quavering as she spoke: "_Expecto Patronum_!" She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the day when Remus had returned to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts again. At the thought of that day, her heart seemed to soar.  
  
From her wand sprang a Patronus in the shape of a great and powerful eagle such as could be found in the stories about the ancient days. It flapped its magnificent, shimmering wings and gave a keening cry that could strike fear into the heart of its enemies before transfixing the dementors with its golden eyes and diving into their midst with both its razor sharp beak and massive talons ready.  
  
Minerva drew a deep breath and brought to mind Albus' proposal, which had made her happier than anything had in a very long while.  
  
"_Expecto Patronum_!" Minerva cried in a loud, strong voice.  
  
The creature was almost blindingly white and filled the darkness all around them with a silvery light that would have been sufficient to keep a dozen dementors at bay. It shook out its mane and lifted its head to give a mighty roar. If Godric Gryffindor himself had conjured the Patronus, he could hardly have matched this lion, this great beast called forth from Minerva McGonagall's wand in Hogwarts' hour of need. It shot toward the dementors like an arrow from a bowstring, scattering them and forcing them away from the three women as it joined Hermione and Ginny's Patroni in the skirmish.  
  
They all felt the powerful magic that they had unleashed draining them, but the Patroni seemed to be doing the job. Then something unexpected happened. No matter how long she lived nor what she would see in her life, Ginny swore that she would never forget the moment when the three Patroni met in the midst of the crowd of scattering dementors. They melded into one another with a flash that nearly blinded them. Hermione and Minerva shielded their eyes, but Ginny could not look away. Instead of three separate Patroni, there was one great Patronus in the form of an unimaginably beautiful and majestic Griffin with the head of her eagle, the body of Professor McGonagall's lion, and the tail of Hermione's serpent. Against that, no dementor could stand its ground.  
  
The horrible guardians of Azkaban quailed before the Griffin and fled back in the direction from which they had come, leaving the three witches standing there with expressions of awe upon their tired faces even as a drizzling rain began to fall. The Griffin stepped toward them, and they reached out instinctively to touch the beautiful creature before it disappeared, raising their wands in salute to their champion. It tossed its head and whipped its tail about its body before vanishing in a silvery puff as though it had never been at all. Their mission was accomplished. Hermione and Ginny sank to the damp earth in exhaustion.  
  
~  
  
The plain black robes hung loosely about his shoulders. Severus could not stop trembling long enough even to fasten the buttons of the garment. Only long minutes of concentrated effort and quiet cursing had allowed him to struggle into a pair of trousers. Shoes and a shirt were luxuries that he could not afford at the moment as he lurched toward the door of his bedroom, crashing into the door jam in an effort to keep his feet. He felt an overpowering sense of urgency that out weighed the physical weakness that nearly consumed him and made his knees shake and his arms feel heavy.  
  
It was absurd, and he knew it, to think that he might be able to aid in the final battle against Voldemort. Severus was not even certain that he possessed the strength to cast a single spell. His mind was hazy and filled with such chaos that he almost swore that his ears were beginning to ring from the constant noise of thoughts, memories, ideas, and emotions that were even beginning to cloud and distort his senses. But Snape would not remain cowering in a dungeon.  
  
He stumbled through his apartment, bumping into furniture and struggling to keep his balance. His determination carried him to the door and into the corridors. He shivered against the renewed onslaught of cold. His rooms had seemed warm by comparison. He rested for a moment with his back against the wall. A chill was seeping through his open robes, but he was panting for breath and could not go on without at least a short respite. He closed his eyes and felt sleep reaching out to claim him. Severus pried his eyelids open and slowly began to move, walking in the direction that led out of the dungeons. It was all that he could do merely to stay on his feet, though his legs were beginning to feel just a bit stronger.  
  
Using the wall for support, Severus made his way slowly up the corridor one step at a time. He clenched his wand as tightly as he could, afraid to put it in his pocket. Somehow he did not think he would be able to remove it quickly enough. It was better to have it close.  
  
Cold sweat began to pour down his face and into his eyes as he exerted all of his strength and energy to make it from the dungeons to the Entrance Hall of the castle. He clumsily wiped the perspiration from his face with his sleeve as he held his breath and listened to the sounds of fighting outside. He could not tell from the din who was winning. He only knew that both his duty and his beloved were on the other side of those great doors.  
  
~  
  
The defending forces at the gate, or what remained of it, were hard pressed as they faced all the wizards who had pledged themselves to Lord Voldemort, including his elite Death Eaters and others who had flocked to the Dark Lord's cause since his return to corporeal form. Harry found himself fighting not his great foe, but rather his soldiers, who were faceless men who still persisted in hiding behind masks and heavy, black robes even in their final hour whether it be one of victory or defeat. He was almost certain that the hulk of a man that Ron and he had managed to dispatch was MacNair. But it difficult to say. There was no time to rip away masks during the chaos.  
  
Harry glimpsed Professor Vector stun young Crabbe and Goyle, who had predictably turned upon their peers in favor of Voldemort's hoard. He did not see Draco Malfoy anywhere. He had slipped away somehow, Harry imagined, and that displeased him. Harry always wanted to know where his enemies were.   
  
In a momentary break front the fighting, Harry looked around the battlefield, spying friends and teachers amid the smoke, drizzling rain, and chaos. Remus was fighting off a pair of werewolves who had broken through the line, or what was left of it, at the Dark Forest. Harry could hear his firm and clear voice on the wind as he tried to reason with them. They would have none of it. Moody was near the castle stairs. Seamus and Dean were locked in fierce combat with a slender Dark Wizard that Harry assumed to be the elder Malfoy.  
  
He glanced at Ron at his side and wondered where the other Weasley brothers were. Harry gave him an encouraging smile as they caught their breaths. MacNair had been a formidable opponent for both of them. Not quick nor agile, but very strong, very powerful. They had done well. Harry wasn't certain that the Death Eater, lying face down in the mud only a few paces away, was dead, but he certainly wasn't moving and a light vapor was rising from his black robes.  
  
Then Harry happened to turn toward the path leading from the school. And he saw his enemy.   
  
Voldemort was standing only a few dozen meters down the lane, tapping his wand against the flat of his palm and simply watching with a mixture of enjoyment, impatience, and indifference to the battle playing out before him. It was an odd combination of arrogant self-assurance and smug satisfaction too, as though the Dark Lord already knew what the outcome would be, insofar as he believed that he would emerge victorious - the lives of his followers meant nothing, were mere trifles, a means to an end. He had even invoked an Umbrellus charm to keep his robes dry as he watched the spectacle.  
  
As a blasting curse went off in the distance, between the Quidditch pitch and the forest, Harry saw an eerie light come to Voldemort's uncanny red eyes, and turned to Ron.  
  
"It's time," he said in an emotionless voice. "You shouldn't come with me. This is between him and me."  
  
"Bloody hell, Harry, you aren't going out there alone," said Ron adamantly, shaking his head and looking toward their waiting enemy.  
  
"And I believe that neither of you should leave the grounds unescorted," said a voice behind them.  
  
Harry turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing there. When the wards had failed, the older wizard had taken the opportunity to make use of his apparition abilities, just as their enemies were doing.  
  
"All right, sir," Harry answered simply before they made their way through the gate and up the path to where Voldemort awaited them.  
  
~  
  
The rain was cool, and it felt so good on her face as she closed her eyes and waited for her breath and strength to return. Hermione smiled grimly, knowing that there was still work to do and that perhaps the worst of it was not behind them. But they had done something. They had managed to drive away the dementors of Azkaban. When this was all over, she wanted to exchange pleasant memories with Ginny and Professor McGonagall. She was very eager to learn how they accomplished the task and how they had all produced such a Patronus as that one. Hermione did not realize that they had all come, in some form or fashion, from their strong memories of the powerful emotion of love.  
  
"If only we had a bit of chocolate ..." murmured Ginny.  
  
Hermione nodded her agreement as she opened her eyes. They would certainly have some later, she decided, looking up at Professor McGonagall, who had remained on her feet, though the older witch did look a bit tired.  
  
"When you can manage it, we had best join the fight again," Minerva told them. Her words were stern, but pride shone in her eyes as she looked down at her students.  
  
Then they heard a loud clumping sound coming toward them and turned in the direction of the greenhouses. Hermione and Ginny clambered quickly to their feet with wands raised as a giant came into view.   
  
He was well over the standard twenty feet tall and rather incredibly ugly, even for a giant, and had an iron-shod club resting on one shoulder as he lumbered toward them. It was a well-known fact that the giants were and are a violent race. A leering grin came to this particular giant's face as he realized that he was facing an opposition that consisted of only three witches, one who looked rather old and two who were not even fully trained. Easy pickings, he reckoned.  
  
"Ginny, run and see if you can find someone to lend us a hand," said McGonagall in a steady voice. "We will try to keep him occupied," she added.  
  
"But ..." she protested.  
  
"Go!" said Minerva.  
  
Ginny took one last look at the approaching giant and raced away through the rain around the opposite side of the castle from whence they had originally come.  
  
"Do you have a plan, professor?" asked Hermione, knowing that to stun a giant, it usually required as many as four fully trained and rather powerful wizards. She had read an article once when she was considering, very briefly, entering Auror training.  
  
"The beginnings of one," she answered as the giant took the club from its shoulder. "Try to stay out of its way."  
  
"Right ..." said Hermione as the giant prepared to swing.  
  
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A/N: Yeah, now that's an evil cliffhanger. I think the Patronus thing may have been cheesy. I'm not sure.   
  
  
jasmine black: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: Definitely a record. Wow, you really put some thought into that, and I've been keeping a the plot bunnies at bay with an axe since reading it. I can only answer a few of those questions. Ginny was assertive because, well, she does that sometimes ("Leave him alone" from CoS ch. 4). About the sword ... patience! How could Severus have felt the blast? I never took a physics class, but I think the blast would carry through the ground (like the rumbling of dynamite at the quarrey near where I grew up - I'm so odd), so it could be felt under the right circumstances in the dungeons (I think). The 'impossible questions' mostly can't be answered, but your "if Gryffindor killed Slytherin with that sword" comment is the only thing I've ever heard that really makes me want to write a Founders' fic. And from your 'Argus' comment I'm guessing you're an Ozma fan (yay!), but I don't think he's going to make another appearance. If you want to see Minerva meet Tom (in one of my stories), there is a _tiny_ bit of that in "Another Time". And the other questions must go unanswered, but I really do appreciate them and the rest of the review, of course!  
  
Aislin: I'm a big fan of swords and all that stuff. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Luna Writer: *snicker* Sorry! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Thank you for the reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Aw ... Thanks for reviewing!  
  
masscoffee: Thank you!  
  
ElvenEnchantress: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	19. In which there is more fighting

Chapter Nineteen  
  
In which there is more fighting  
  
  
Alastor Moody had lost sight of the young Aurors who had accompanied him to Hogwarts for the battle and the rest of those assigned to the Dark Forest, except for a few older Ravenclaw students who were dealing with a trio of werewolves. Moody was battling a Death Eater himself at the bottom of the steps leading to the doors of Hogwarts.  
  
He had had suspicions about high ranking officials in the Ministry of Magic for some time and suspected that at that very moment he was fighting none other than Edmund Nott from the Transportation office. Alastor could not wait until the battle was over, until he could see the faces of these accursed Dark Wizar ds and know them for who they really were. But Nott was a slippery one and knew what he was doing better than his comrades had during the first reign of Voldemort.  
  
At the same time that Moody managed to slip a curse past the defenses of his opponent, he heard a small sound behind him. In the brief instant of triumph, his vigilance had slipped. Alastor turned with his wand raised to see a werewolf with a jagged blade leaping toward him. The man would have easily skewered him with the knife, but his eyes suddenly rolled back and he fell heavily to the earth with a strangled sigh, the weapon falling dully from his nerveless fingers. He had been hit from behind with a stunner in the very nick of time.  
  
Alastor looked toward where the spell had come from: the great stone stairs. He could not hide his surprise when he realized who had just saved his life.   
  
Severus Snape was standing on the stairs with his wand half-raised and a robe billowing about his shoulders. By the aging Auror's estimation, Snape looked as though he might collapse at any moment. He was as pale as death and noticeably trembling. He had the look of one who had experienced extreme magical torture, something that Moody recognized quite easily.  
  
Snape awkwardly made his way down the stairs toward the former Auror. His tread was still very unsteady, but he struggled not to appear so weak nor so dizzy as he felt. He hated the way Moody was looking at him, a mixture of surprise, pity, and almost critical assessment. He had used the first spell that had come to mind on the werewolf that had crept up behind Moody. It was more a matter of instinct, a reflex, than a conscious decision.  
  
"Snape," Alastor acknowledged in a rough growl, reaching a hand out to steady him.  
  
When Snape had turned against his master during the previous conflict, Moody had warned Dumbledore not to trust him, that a true Dark Wizard could not change his ways any more than a leopard could change its spots. Dumbledore had noted his advice and sheltered Snape from prosecution nevertheless. For that moment on the battlefield, Moody was privately very glad that the headmaster had done so.  
  
"Moody," he replied with a slight nod. It was difficult to speak, so much so that he had barely ever managed the single spell word that had dispatched the werewolf.  
  
"You shouldn't be out here after what happened," said Alastor, glancing around to be certain that they were safe for the moment.  
  
"Doesn't matter," mumbled Severus.  
  
"I dare say it does to some people," growled Moody as Snape's eyes roamed over the grounds.  
  
"I need ... to find _her_."  
  
"Easy, laddie, who do you need to find?" he questioned. Severus shuddered against the cold and the constant drizzling ran falling around them. "Here, let's get you sorted out," said Moody, reaching to button his robes.  
  
"Hermione ... Granger," Snape answered as the ex-Auror made quick work of the buttons. "Thank you." he said softly.  
  
"Granger, eh? She went off to fight the dementors with McGonagall and Miss Weasley," Moody answered with a thin smile. Alastor could spot a man in love as well as anyone. "But you would be better served going back inside than trying to find her out here," he added.  
  
"Where is she?" Severus asked, transfixing Moody with a piercing and serious gaze.  
  
"Round by the greenhouses unless I am much mistaken," he replied.  
  
Snape nodded brusquely and began walking away from Alastor. His steps were ungainly, but he was clearly determined. The ex-Auror suddenly found himself wondering if Albus had not been right all along about the younger wizard.  
  
"Damn shame if he gets himself killed now," growled Moody before returning to the fray.  
  
~  
  
The next thing Hermione knew she was dodging the giant's weapon while something small and gray darted past her and to her lasting amazement scrambled up the club as though it were a ramp. It was Professor McGonagall in Animagus form! Hermione rolled away from the instrument of destruction as impacted with the turf with a colossal thud, which had caused her to duck with so great enthusiasm that she had ended up on the ground. Hermione could not imagine what her professor was attempting, though it was certainly very daring.  
  
Then a bellow of intense pain rang through the air and Hermione knew. Professor McGonagall had gone for the creature's eyes with her claws in an attempt to blind the giant, which would give them a better chance of defeating the massive being.  
  
Hermione watched in horror as he caught hold of Minerva and flung her away with startling speed and a giant's strength. In the rain and darkness she could not see where the professor had landed or if she had landed on her feet. She gulped as she looked up at the giant, which was rubbing furiously at his bleeding eyes. Professor McGonagall had done a job on them.  
  
For a moment Hermione considered running. But there was the question of her head of house ... If she were injured, Hermione could not leave her. She kept one eye on the giant and began looking around frantically for McGonagall. Nothing. Then the giant lifted his club again and began making slow arcs with it as though seeking something.  
  
"Me," Hermione realized, moving quickly out of the way.  
  
She could tell that by the way the giant lifted his head that he could hear her. She was breathing very rapidly, very loudly by her own estimation.   
  
The giant took a wild swing and missed her. It was a close enough call to make her scramble. Giants were not a clever race, but they were certainly fearsome warriors and capable killers. A leer lit his blood splattered face. She knew that he had an even better idea as to the location of his quarry. He raised his club and took another mighty swing at her. But there was something the giant didn't count on: the castle battlement just to his right. The gigantic iron-shod club nicked a rampart than ran between the North and West Towers, taking with it several large hunks of stone.  
  
Hermione looked up just in time to see the tremendous amount of debris hurtling to earth and directly toward her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something black racing past the blinded giant. Time itself seemed to stand still as she recognized the robe-clad form. Her jaw dropped as she saw both horror and resolve in those familiar ebony eyes. He dove for her with a single-minded determination, tossing her to the ground beneath him and shielding her with his body.  
  
"Severus," she breathed just before the world around them went completely dark.  
  
~  
  
Ginny was gasping for breath by the time she reached the front of the school. Her eyes darted over the grounds, looking for anyone capable of fending off a giant. She glimpsed Percy far away through the crowd. Too far, she decided, looking around wildly for someone who would help her. There was a cluster of Hufflepuff fifth years who had surrounded a very fierce looking man in shabby robes who reminded her a bit of Remus. They were busy. Then she spied one of the young Aurors who had come to the school. She began jogging toward him, wincing at the mild stitch in her side.  
  
Then she heard someone crying out a spell over the chaos and noise of the battlefield. Barely an instant later there was a loud, rumbling sound all around the other nearby combatants and Ginny that was nearly deafening. It was a blasting curse, and a strong one, if she was any judge of such things.   
  
Ginny felt herself being lifted into the air with the power of the blast and closed her eyes, waiting for the impact that was certain to follow ...  
  
~  
  
Minerva picked herself up shakily from the ground and watched the giant stump away from the pile of rubble, smashing blindly into a greenhouse as he left, satisfied that his enemies were no more. Pain shot through her wand arm as she transformed. She could not take her eyes from the heap of fractured stone beneath which one of her students and, unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, one of her colleagues were buried. Her wand fell from her fingertips. She could not hold it. Her ribs ached as she drew a gasping breath. Tears came to her eyes.  
  
"So senseless ..." she murmured, dragging herself to her feet and taking her wand in her other hand. "She could have run ..." Minerva thought.  
  
Upon reaching the rubble, ancient stonework dislodged by the club of a giant, she collapsed to her knees.  
  
"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" she said, pointing her wand toward the debris and hoping that she could manage something, even using the wrong arm.  
  
The stones trembled, but remained decidedly where they were. Again and again Minerva tried the spell, but it was no use. She laid her wand aside and began to attempt to move the rubble by hand. It was hardly any better, but she could not go for help, and judging by the blasting curses that she could hear on the other side of the castle, it was not all that probable that anyone could be spared. She thought of Ginny for a moment and wondered how she was getting along in her quest for reinforcements.  
  
"Better than we have fared here, I hope," thought Minerva, continuing to sift through the rubble.  
  
~  
  
Remus Lupin looked down at his right leg and winced. He was rather certain that it was broken. He touched his foot lightly to the ground and felt a jolt of pain and grimaced. Such a silly idea, bone-breaking curses. Remus looked at the dead werewolf lying on the grass in front of him and sighed. She was rather pretty. She had been rather pretty, he amended mentally, and willing to fight for the death. It had been no use trying to reason with her. But he had tried. The attempt had earned him a fractured leg and a few scratches across the face.  
  
"_Ferula_," he said, binding up his leg with a soft sigh. No use going to the hospital wing in the middle of the battle. Not for this.  
  
He took that moment of relative calm as an opportunity to survey the battlefield. It was littered with bodies already. Nothing could be done about that. They would pick up the pieces later. Remus looked for Ginny, but the only redhead he saw was Bill Weasley, whose long, damp hair was clinging to his face as he wrapped magical cords around a black robed figure at his feet.  
  
Then Remus realized that there was no sign of Harry, Ron, or Professor Dumbledore. He felt unnaturally cold for a moment. If something had happened to them, it was almost certainly all over. His eyes drifted over what was left of the castle gates toward a shimmering golden light in the air outside the grounds a few meters or so. Remus could not make out quite what it was. He clenched his wand in a white-knuckled grip and began ambling toward the gate.  
  
Part of the professor, as he crossed the lawn as quickly as he could, longed to join the fray again, but he knew that much of their fate rested upon whether or not Voldemort himself was defeated, presumably by Harry, who had been groomed for the task. That thought carried him all the way to broken gate of the school before he was forced to pause again.  
  
And when Remus looked up the road that led toward Hogsmeade, he was almost certain that his eyes were playing tricks on him. There was an enormous glittering dome in middle of the path. He squinted as he noticed a pair of wands, one of which looked very much like Harry's, spinning at the apex of the dome. Harry had explained, he recalled, what had happened after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, but he could not fathom what those wands were doing up there.  
  
Remus could not see into the globe of light, but he could see two figures silhouetted against it, both tall and rather thin: Albus Dumbledore and Ron Weasley. That meant that Harry and Voldemort were inside the dome, fighting it out for the fate of wizarding kind. And Remus wasn't certain who would have the advantage in such a contest.  
  
As he pulled himself up the path toward Dumbledore and Weasley, the former turned and gave him a grim smile.  
  
"I suppose you know what is happening here," said the headmaster.  
  
"Harry?" he questioned, nodding toward the magical enclosure.  
  
"Yes," answered Dumbledore. "In the end, I suppose, it is rather fitting that they do this without an audience, though I would have given anything for Harry not to be alone."  
  
"So would I," said Ron softly.  
  
Remus squeezed his shoulder and said, "All of us would."  
  
~  
  
And at that particular moment, Harry would have welcomed assistance from just about anyone. His first instinct when battling the Dark Lord had been to attempt to disarm him. To his amazement, it had worked after a fashion, but since they had both cast Expelliarmus, they had both lost their wands due to the Priori Incantatum effect. The wands had spun a golden light, a cage of sorts, around them and then shot into the air where they continued to spin crazily at the top of the dome. That left Harry to face Voldemort without magical aid.  
  
"Wandless magic, wandless magic," Harry thought as they circled one another like wild animals ready to leap upon their prey, though to be fair Harry was rather certain that he was the prey and Voldemort was the hunter, "I wish I had had the headmaster explain how that works a bit more clearly."  
  
Voldemort lunged toward him with fire in his shining red eyes, but Harry skipped out of reach. He was more than fifty years younger and physically fit. Harry was making a mental list of his strengths and weaknesses while attempting to focus on his foe. Maybe try a few spells? But without a wand ... Even Voldemort was not trying to use magic ... yet. That was not a good sign. Something important was tugging at the back of Harry's mind, but he couldn't quite remember what.  
  
"Well, Potter, are we going to fight, you and I, or are you going to dance?" asked Voldemort as Harry dodged out of his grasp a second time.  
  
He could move like a serpent, but Harry was hoping that he didn't have the stamina for a long fight. Of course, he wasn't certain that he necessarily did either.  
  
"Not going to avenge your parents?" taunted Voldemort.  
  
Harry remained silent as they continued to circle. Using them to make him angry, to make him lose control and do something stupid, would not work anymore. Sirius and Remus had seen to that.  
  
"Who else have I killed that mattered to you?"  
  
"My godfather," Harry spat, already thinking of the only real guardian, the only one that had ever really cared about him.  
  
"Sirius Black, wasn't it? Oh, no, that was Pettigrew. An equitable trade, I suppose. A rat for a dog," said Voldemort. "One of my followers told me that Black screamed just like a little girl when Pettigrew's curse took effect," he added smugly.  
  
Harry could feel the anger building and hoped that through some blind chance it would be enough to cause him to _do_ something, preferably something useful. Sirius had been dead for a little more than a year. In less stressful moments Harry could say exactly how many days it had been since he had lost his godfather.  
  
_Pettigrew was already dead when Harry had reached the spot where Sirius had caught up with him. But Sirius was still very much alive and afflicted with a curse that was slowly killing him. Harry had not known the counter-curse. Or maybe there was none. Sirius was pale and obviously in pain, and he was trying desperately not to show it, to put on a bold face for Harry.  
  
He had tried to cast Mobilicorpus on his godfather to take him to the hospital wing, but Sirius had demanded that Harry put him down. His voice was still strong and firm, still the voice of the man who had risked so much to be there for Harry.  
  
"I don't want to spend my last moments with you like that," said Sirius.  
  
Nothing had prepared Harry for that moment. Not Cedric Diggory's death. Not anything from fifth year, though that had been a terrible year. He had believed that when the war was over ... when Sirius' name was cleared ... that they would be able to live together in peace for a while at least. That he would have a family of his own. Peter Pettigrew had robbed him of another family. It didn't matter one whit that he was dead too.  
  
Harry had gathered Sirius in his arms. The older wizard had smiled. It was uncanny. So much pain, his impending death, and he could still manage a smile. It had been a long while since Harry had cried, but at that moment, he couldn't help it.  
  
"Sirius ... tell me what to do!" he had sniffed, wanting to do something, anything to save his godfather.  
  
"Live, Harry. Survive this war. And live," Sirius had told him. Simple words._  
  
At that particular moment, feeling the anger beginning to consume him as he stared down the man responsible for so much pain and death, Harry found it difficult to remember those words and to keep his cool.  
  
"Well, Potter?" sneered Voldemort, slowly his steps slightly.  
  
"You can't possibly win," said Harry.  
  
"Oh, can't I?" questioned the Dark Lord before leaping into the air, like a snake coiling and then striking.  
  
Harry stumbled backwards in surprise and found himself suddenly pinned to the ground by his adversary an instant later. Voldemort's hands were suddenly around his throat. There was a look of triumph and cruel joy in his eyes as he crackled almost shrilly. Harry struggled, trying to loosen or pry away the hands that were squeezing the life out of him at a rapid pace. But the Dark Lord's hands were like bands of iron.  
  
Then he felt something hard against his side beneath his robes. His heart began beating even more wildly as he realized that it was the sword of Godric Gryffindor, forgotten in the heat of battle. Harry seized the hilt through the robes and with all the strength that remained in him, levered the point upward and gave it a good solid push.  
  
Voldemort's eyes widened. Harry could feel his throttling fingers lose their strength and gave another thrust with his blade. Something warm was running down the sword. Harry could feel it on his robes and the hand that gripped the sword. It was blood and a lot of it. Voldemort's mouth moved silently. His red eyes grew foggy as though a thin, murky film had passed over them. The creature that had once been Tom Riddle made a soft gurgling sound and collapsed. He coughed once, expelling a small amount of blood, and did not move again. He was dead.  
  
Harry pushed Voldemort away with an overwhelming feeling of revulsion that was followed by a rush of intense relief. Pulling the sword from within his slightly torn robes, he looked at the blood stained blade for a moment before wiping it on his robes and thrusting it into the ground. It was really over. The worst of it at least was finally done.  
  
The two wands fell to the ground. Harry stooped and retrieved the one belonging to him, glad to have it back in his hand. The golden dome disintegrated around him, revealing Professors Dumbledore and Lupin and Ron. They all had their wands ready in their hands, just in case. Harry looked at them and shook his head before pointing toward the crumpled form of Lord Voldemort.  
  
"He's dead!" he told them.  
  
"Well done, Harry," said Dumbledore.  
  
"I knew you could do it, mate," Ron told him with a smile.  
  
Remus simply nodded, but there was a very proud look on his face that Harry could not miss.  
  
"What now?" questioned Harry, looking to Professor Dumbledore and then at the body.  
  
"That must be disposed of. It would not do if it fell into the wrong hands. We have all seen enough of him, I believe, and by no means should his followers be permitted to claim the corpse," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes, sir," nodded Harry in agreement.   
  
He looked down at his bloodstained school robes and removed them. His shirt and pants beneath were virtually unstained. He tossed the garment onto Voldemort. Harry then lifted Voldemort's wand from the ground and gave it to Dumbledore, who calmly snapped it in half before throwing it on the growing pile.  
  
Their next course of action was determined by an unspoken decision. Words were not necessary. They simply knew what should be done.  
  
"_Incendio_!" they said with a single voice, each pointing his wand at the dead Dark Lord.  
  
The flames were high and hot, lighting up the night sky with some measure of brilliance. Harry looked into the eyes of his friends and professors as they watched Voldemort burn to nothing, naught but a pile of ashes that would be scattered upon the wind in the morning. The light rain sizzled quietly among the flames, but could not quench them. That was the end of Lord Voldemort.  
  
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A/N: I wanted Voldie to suffer more, but I rewrote that part several (three) times and that was the worst I could do to him. Oh, and the body was burned because of a weird discussion about necromancy ... I'm not having them go through the trouble of killing him, just so the corpse can be reanimated. Ugh! (Sorry about that little outburst.)  
  
  
Emeryss Sedalia: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Jules: I'm glad you liked the Patronus! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
carpathia: I want to write another ... an additional story after this, but I don't know if it will be possible. Thanks for the interest though and for the review!  
  
Enfleurage: My magic theory (curse usage, defense techniques) are on par with Gilderoy Lockhart's. In other words, not my strong suit. But I will certainly keep that suggestion in mind. Your theory about Snape acting on 'instinct' was very good. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
michelline: Thank you for the review!  
  
AHHHHH!: Erm, sorry! But thanks for the review!  
  
Jasmine Black: I'm glad you like the Griffin! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
LadySnape: The idea of the Patroni melding into one came first. Then I had to go and find a multi-part magical creature ... I came up with the Griffin and since two parts (snake and lion) worked so well together, I used it. Wish I could say I dreamt it or something cool, but, sadly no. Okay, the confusion about apparition ... When the wards went down, the anti-apparition one did too, which the DE's used to their advantage. Dumbledore did the same thing, moving through the battlefield quickly and easily via apparaition. I hope that sounds plausible. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
ElvenEnchantress: I'm not asked very often where I come up with my ideas. The part about the three Patroni melding together came to me after I had turned my computer off one night. That's when I have my strangest ideas (I'm very odd). Thank you for the review!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: Severus is an idiot, but ... what would any of us do without him? Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: Hmm... They consulted with all kinds of dark and icky forces and did things with goats' blood and dark, forbidden objects. I really hadn't thought about exactly what they did. I only assumed that Hogwarts couldn't be safe forever. Excuse me while I go brush up on my Dark Magic theory. Ginny's Patronus was very difficult (see line about her heart soaring *rolls eyes at self*). But for the Patroni to form a Griffin, someone had to have the eagle bits. Lame, yes. Practical, yes. Potions for Severus ... *smack* why didn't I think of that? I was busy concentrating on Hermione. Oh, wait ... (I'm not teasing you or anything; that is what really happened - I should have thought of having Severus do something more pragmatic than just leaping into battle). Ack! The Trio question ... I can't think of a good answer. Sorry. You support Redeemable! Draco. I applaud that. But I can't say what will become of him ... yet. As for the Ginny question, I think I got that one, and maybe the giant one too. Thank you very much for your review (it really made me think)!  
  
masscoffee: Does that qualify? *grins* Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
LadyTiffany: Natural bit of advice (I was terrified of storybook giants as a child). Thanks for the review and for the email a few chapters ago!  
  
jena: Thank you!  
  
JoeBob1379: Tell me about it! The grounds are nearly as confusing as the castle itself! So you're expecting a happily-ever-after? Do I write those? *thinks* I don't know. I'm from the school of victory-always-has-a-cost. So ... Thank you for reviewing!  
  
labrisa: Thanks for the review!  
  
Lily of the Shadow: I'm glad you enjoyed the battle scenes (can you tell that I read too much Tolkien?). Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  



	20. In which Ginny learns more than a few th...

Chapter Twenty  
  
In which Ginny learns more than a few things  
  
  
  
The first thing that Ginny Weasley was aware of was something scratchy against her cheek, followed immediately by the realization that she had a throbbing headache and no idea why. She opened her eyes and realized that she was lying in some bushes near the lake and that it seemed to be only a few hours before dawn. The sky was beginning to change from an inky black to a softer shade of gray. The rain had ceased, but there were still thick clouds overhead. She shivered as she sat up and began disentangling herself from the bushes, snagging her robes and scratching her hands.  
  
She looked across the school grounds and shuddered involuntarily at the sight of dozens of bodies strewn across the damp grass and the mud. The mildly acrid scent of smoke was in the air. It was faint, but it caught her attention. The magical torches that had lit the battlefield were slowly starting to gutter. But was that the source of the smoke? The battle was over, but she could not honestly say who had won. Looking toward the castle, she noted that the doors were closed and took it as a good sign. Would their enemies really have tried to keep the heat in? She didn't think so. But still, Ginny was not certain what had happened nor how long she had been out.  
  
She glanced around and found her wand lying near the bushes. Her intentions were to return to the castle and discover the truth of the matter, to find out what had happened. She began walking toward the castle entrance, stepping around prone figures in dark robes upon the ground. Mostly Death Eaters, she realized.  
  
She had almost reached the stairs when a soft voice caught her attention.  
  
"Miss Weasley ...?" the growling voice questioned.  
  
Ginny looked around quickly and spied a form in Auror's robes lying several meters to the right of the stone stairs, almost out of sight and out of mind. She hurried toward the figure, who was moving weakly.  
  
"Mister Moody," she asked, kneeling in the mud and pulling away a bit of his cloak that had fallen over his face, "are you all right?"  
  
"They got me, lass," he said, reaching a gnarled hand toward her. "But we got them too. Potter ... he killed the Dark Lord," Moody told her.  
  
"We won?" she questioned in a whisper, taking his hand. He was trembling slightly.  
  
"That's right," said Alastor.  
  
"Then I guess I should help you inside. You need attention ..." she began to say, recovering her wits.  
  
"I won't be needing anything soon," he said. "I'm afraid that I've been struck by a deadly curse."  
  
"But surely something can be done," Ginny protested, lifting her wand and trying desperately to think of a good counter-curse or a healing spell that might help him.  
  
"Don't fuss," said Moody, waving her wand away.  
  
"But ..." she began.  
  
"I got him too, you know," he said, nodding toward a form half leaning against the castle wall.  
  
Ginny turned and bit back a gasp of surprising when she recognized Moody's assailant. The blond hair and sharp features could belong to no one else. It was Draco Malfoy. She was bewildered. Malfoy, the Slytherin prefect, was on the other side? Of course, she knew about his family ties, but she had never presumed to think that Draco was one of _them_.  
  
"Not his fault really. I would bet my ... well, I would bet that Lucius had him under the Imperious curse for years. Didn't want to kill him. He was ... too young. But there was nothing to be done. We cursed each other at the same time, and that was that," the former Auror explained. "I just wish that he wasn't so young. I wish all of you weren't so young," he said, shaking his head.  
  
"Yes, sir," she whispered, squeezing his hand.  
  
"Tell Potter something for me, would you?" he questioned.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Thank him for me. When this all started up again almost four years ago ... I didn't think I would live to see the end of the war. It looks like I have after all," said Moody.  
  
"I'll tell him," Ginny assured him. "Are you sure I can't do anything, sir?" she questioned.  
  
"Yes, Miss Weasley, I'm certain," he said. "It won't be too long now."  
  
Ginny glanced from Moody to the castle doors. If only someone would come, maybe they could do something. It wasn't fair, she decided. The war had been won. And Mister Moody was still going to die. They had won. That should be it. Tears began to fill her eyes as she looked at Moody, who had been a friend of parents, her father especially, and who had visited the Burrow at least once when she was very young.  
  
Alastor shuddered and looked up at tearful Ginny, telling her, "Don't you be crying."  
  
"I'll ... I'll try not to," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand.  
  
"That's a good lass," he said. "I saw your Professor Lupin a little while before the battle ended. He was limping a bit, but he seemed all right, so you don't have to worry too much about him," Alastor informed her.  
  
"Thank you, sir," said Ginny.  
  
Alastor closed his eyes and nodded slightly. Ginny could feel his grip upon her hand begin to loosen. He drew a deep breath and exhaled with a soft sigh. Then he was simply gone. Ginny felt his wrist with trembling fingers. Nothing. No gentle thud against the skin. Even the warmth seemed to be seeping away. She released his hand, placing it gently across his chest. She wiped her eyes again and clambered to her feet.  
  
"_M_... _Mob_... _Mobilicorpus_," she spoke with a wave of her wand, the word nearly sticking in her throat. She simply could not leave him lying there among his enemies. It wouldn't be right.  
  
The body of Alastor Moody rose from the muddy ground and floated gently behind her as she strode toward the stairs leading up to the castle doors. Ginny turned and looked out at the wasteland and wondered how many others had died that day, how many of her classmates, how many of her professors, and ... how many of her own family. It was too terrible to contemplate as she entered Hogwarts.  
  
~  
  
Minerva had just left the hospital wing after what many people would have called a protracted argument with Hufflepuff seventh year Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had been conscripted by Madam Pomfrey to help attend to the injured. The young man, who had grown from a muggle-born petrified by the Basilisk to a stubborn and confident badger and credit to his house, had been rather adamant that the professor should not leave until someone mended her broken arm, for which he had transfigured a muggle sling from a pillow case. The feat would normally have earned him house points, but Minerva was more than a little irritated by the delay. There were still students unaccounted for, including Ginny Weasley. It was Minerva's intention to locate her.  
  
Fortunately for her, Minerva did not need to go far to find the object of her search. She paused just outside the hospital wing and watched as Ginny calmly and efficiently laid Alastor Moody down on one of the benches that lined the hallway immediately outside the infirmary. Ginny, in her opinion, looked rather pale and the girl's face had been scratched, though not very deeply.   
  
Ginny swayed a bit dizzily as she crossed Alastor's arms over his chest before sitting down heavily on the floor next to the bench. It had taken too much of her strength to transport him from the field of battle. Ginny drew up her knees and buried her face in her arms.  
  
Minerva looked at Alastor and felt a pang of sorrow.  
  
"He must be dead," she thought, walking down the hall to see about Ginny.  
  
The sound of approaching footsteps caused Ginny to look up again. She was trying desperately not to cry, but she was so tired and so dizzy and everything seemed so terrible. She looked up saw Professor McGonagall standing there with her arm in a sling and a worried expression on her face.  
  
"It was a killing curse," she said softly, watching Minerva's eyes drift to where she had deposited Moody. The hospital wing had seemed too far away. And what good would that have done?  
  
"I see," said Minerva. "Are you all right, Ginny?" she questioned.  
  
"I'm not sure."  
  
"Can you get up?" McGonagall questioned.  
  
"Maybe," replied Ginny before posing her own question. "Have you seen ... Remus?"  
  
"Yes, he's with Harry and Professor Dumbledore right now. You can see him later, I'm sure," said Minerva, reaching down to give her a hand up.  
  
"And ... my parents? My brothers?" she asked, allowing her head of house to pull her to her feet.  
  
Minerva didn't know quite what to tell her. The poor girl, she thought, had been through enough. She put an arm around her shoulders before speaking.  
  
"Follow me," she said. "They are in the hospital wing," she added for clarification.  
  
"All right, professor," said Ginny, sensing immediately that something was wrong.  
  
  
They were all crowded around a bed, or so Ginny thought at first, before she realized that there were two beds, surrounded by a number of red-heads: her family.   
  
Bill was standing to one side. His hair was a mess, and there was a bandage or perhaps a poultice on one of his ears, the one in which he had worn a dragon fang earring. She winced as she figured out what had possibly happened. The piece of jewelry had been torn from his ear.  
  
Charlie was standing opposite him, but between the beds, turning from one to the other. He no longer looked so ruddy or freckled. He had gone pale. She had never seen Charlie so pale in her entire life.  
  
Ron was standing the foot of the bed that Bill was standing next to. She couldn't see his face, but his shoulders were slumped and that was not a good sign.   
  
Her mother, standing at the foot of the beds too, had a hand on her youngest son's shoulder. Her other arm was around Fred. Or was it George? No, Ginny decided, definitely Fred. George was standing on the other side of the second bed. His face was bruised, but pale beneath the purple splotches. Ginny wondered momentarily how they had escaped Hogsmeade and what they were doing at the school.  
  
She looked at the group again and realized something. Percy and their father were missing. For a brief moment realization was slow to come to her. Then Ginny comprehended that they were the two figures in the hospital beds. Though she could not see their faces as she lingered a few paces away, Ginny was certain that was the case.  
  
"Mum?" she asked quietly as she approached them.  
  
Molly turned and managed something of a smile as she reached out her arms for her only daughter.  
  
"Thank heavens! I was about to send Charlie and George to look for you," said Mrs. Weasley as she hugged Ginny tightly.  
  
When her mother finally released her, Ron and Fred grabbed her at once and in instant she was surrounded by her brothers.  
  
"We were so worried, Ginny!" said George, tousling her already messy hair.  
  
"Yeah!" agreed Fred, playfully punching her in the shoulder.  
  
Charlie and Bill both nearly lifted her from her feet in their exuberance.  
  
"All right, Ginny?" asked Bill as he let go of her.  
  
"I ... I think so," she told him, which was not quite truth. She felt out of sorts and a bit dizzy, especially after one of Charlie's bone-crushing hugs. And as her eyes drifted to Percy and her father, she felt very frightened. "They aren't ... Are they ...?" she tried to ask, but couldn't finish either question.   
  
"Of course not, dear," said Molly, taking her by the arm and leading her between the beds. "Your father is just sleeping right now. Madam Pomfrey expects him to pull through just fine," she explained.  
  
"What happened?" asked Ginny, looking at Arthur, who was pale, but not so much as a few of his sons.  
  
Molly turned toward Bill, expecting him to explain.  
  
"A Death Eater - I don't know who, but they were rather large - caught him behind Hagrid's hut. Mrs. Figg and I had met up halfway between the forest, and she wanted me to go look for him since mum and dad had got separated when the giants rushed the Quidditch pitch. They had just managed to get them under control, thanks to those Aurors and all their training. Anyway, what a mess," said Bill before taking a deep breath.  
  
"It was a good thing you showed up when you did," Molly interjected, looking a bit teary-eyed.  
  
"Yeah," said Bill quietly, looking away for a moment and touching his injured ear, "he was using the Cruciatus curse on dad. But I put an end to that."  
  
Ginny shivered and asked, "But he is going to be all right, isn't he?" She just needed to hear it one more time.  
  
"Of course, Ginny," said her mother.  
  
"And Percy?" she questioned after a pause, turning to look at her older brother.  
  
She was very surprised when Percy opened his eyes just slightly and smiled faintly at her. Ginny reached down to squeeze his hand and gasped in astonishment.  
  
"Mmm... I'm afraid that something seems to have happened to my arm," he said sleepily.   
  
Ginny was rather certain that he had been given a potion, if not for the pain or loss of blood, then for the shock of losing a limb. Percy was missing, from what she could tell at any rate, his left arm from approximately the elbow downward.  
  
"Oh, Percy, does it hurt?" she stammered.  
  
"I do believe it did at the time," he said rather calmly. "Not so much now though," he added after a thoughtful pause.  
  
"It was a Severing curse, Ginny," Molly explained, "just like the one that cost Mister Moody his leg and that bit of his nose."  
  
She nodded that she understood and felt the back of her throat prickle at the thought of the ex-Auror who was lying dead in the outside hallway.  
  
"But Percy nearly managed to dodge it. Good thing too," said Charlie, giving Percy a firm smile and patting his opposite shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, and it was a stroke of luck that it wasn't his wand arm either," piped up Fred, obviously trying to cheer up his usually annoying older brother.  
  
Percy smiled a little more closed his eyes. Bill and Molly exchanged glances across the hospital bed.  
  
"He's been doing that for a couple of hours now," Bill told Ginny.  
  
"Hours? How long has it been since ... since the end?" she questioned in amazement. She wasn't certain precisely how long she had been unconscious.  
  
"About three and half hours," replied Ron. "I was there when Harry beat him. After that, it was a lot easier for everyone," he added.  
  
"And Harry...?"  
  
"He did a job," said Ron proudly. "Then Harry, the headmaster, Professor Lupin, and I took care of what was left. I've never been so glad to see something burn up in my life," he admitted with a shrug and a half smile. "He ... Voldemort died like a muggle."  
  
"Where are they now?" Ginny asked him.  
  
Ron smiled a little wider despite the circumstances as he understood the meaning of her question.  
  
"They're in Madam Pomfrey's office. From what I understand Dumbledore is getting in touch with the Minister of Magic. He wants some Aurors to come take care of ... to come clean up the mess. He wanted Harry and Lupin with him. Me too, but, well, there's dad and Percy," he said with a slight shrug.  
  
"Of course," she agreed.  
  
"Professor Lupin got his leg broken in the fighting, but he's still walking on it. If Madam Pomfrey had seen, she would have been livid," he chuckled before growing more somber again and looking toward a screened off portion of the ward.  
  
Ginny followed his gaze and asked, "Where is Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"Looking after Hermione and Professor Snape," answered Molly.  
  
"Hermione?" she questioned, remembering only then that she was supposed to have found help for Professor McGonagall and her. The professor had had an arm in a sling ... What had happened to them?  
  
"They were in a fight with a giant. Professor McGonagall explained that she got off lightly, with only a broken arm and some bruised ribs, you see. But Hermione and Professor Snape were nearly crushed by some masonry that a giant knocked loose with its club," Molly told her gently.  
  
"How bad is it?" Ginny asked her mother.  
  
"Poppy ... Madam Pomfrey has been back there with them since they were brought in. It is too soon to say, but that cannot be a good sign," explained Molly.  
  
"Oh," said Ginny before swaying with a renewed wave of dizziness.  
  
"Get a chair for your sister," Molly said to Bill, who nodded and went to do just that.  
  
"That looks like a nasty bump," commented Charlie, pointing to a tender spot above her left temple.  
  
"I got caught too close to a blasting curse," she said rather sheepishly.  
  
"I'll get Finch-Fletchly. He's sure to have a potion for that handy," said Ron before dashing away.  
  
"You probably have a concussion, Ginny dear," said Molly quietly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  
  
"Yes, mum," she said softly.  
  
"Don't worry. We'll look after you," said Bill as he slipped a chair behind her and helped her into it.  
  
Ginny was beginning to feel rather exhausted as the fright began to wear off. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of her brothers talking quietly around her.  
  
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A/N: I am going on vacation very soon and will not be back for almost 16 days. I cannot upload the rest of the story before I leave (it isn't ready yet). But I will be on top of it when I get back. So don't hurt me! Meep ... Thanks!  
  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: I'm often accused of mind reading. Epilogue? There's still a wee bit more story. Thank you for the reviews!  
  
JoeBob1379: I'll see what I can do. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
jasmine black: Thank you for the review!  
  
MIchelle: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Jules: No, falling stones are rarely helpful or healthy. Thank you for the review!  
  
auroraziazan: Thanks you for reviewing!  
  
Michelle: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for the review!  
  
Ultimate Creed Fan: I can't tell you that! Thank you for the review!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: *blushes* You like my chapter titles? Chalk them up to my weird sense of humor. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Laura: Severus? Silly? Yep, it fits, I guess. Thank you for the reviews!  
  
Dixiehnsnluver: Thank you!  
  
LookingForABeachVacationSoon: Wow. *blushes* Thank you for that very complimentary review!  
  
Enfleurage: Dumbledore and Ron were waiting around because the defeat of Voldemort was so important and because someone had to be there for Harry (failure or injury). But I see your point, especially in Dumbledore's case. Who was exploding things? *looks at crudely drawn battle maps* I'm not certain, probably a Death Eater. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Pidgie: Aw ... Thanks for the review!  
  
Emeryss Sedalia: I think I answered one of your questions (what happened to Ginny). Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Luna: *gulp* I don't think I'm in any position to help with battle scenes. I mean, the way I wrote mine comes from twelve years of obsessing over fictional battles. As for Severus and Hermione ... patience. Thank you for the review!  
  
masscoffee: *blushes* Thanks!  
  
rhitmcshanm: I wonder about my IC-ness sometimes. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Witchy-grrl: Oh, yes, I am quite evil (a Slytherin in a family of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors). So sorry about that. Thanks for the review!  
  
Nocturnus: I'm not a Gryffindor either. As for Ginny's Animagus form, she hasn't had opportunity to get that far along in her studies/training yet. Thank you for the reviews!  
  
  



	21. In which the casualties of war are exhau...

Chapter Twenty-one  
  
In which the casualties of war are exhaustively recounted  
  
  
  
The hospital wing was quiet again for the first time since the battle started. There were students, professors, and other people everywhere, but those not confined to bed or being observed had been sent elsewhere. Only the ill and the injured remained. It was late in the afternoon, but the sky outside was dark and gray with rain clouds. The downpour had begun about the time that the Aurors from the Ministry had arrived to collect the bodies of the dead Death Eaters and take the live ones into custody and to sort out everything that had happened. But that was several hours ago.  
  
Remus Lupin looked down at his mended leg and sighed softly before attempting to make use of the muggle contraption that an overzealous, muggle-born Hufflepuff had transfigured for him out of an ordinary chair. The wheels squeaked against the floor. Poppy wanted him off his feet for several days even after magically repairing the broken bone. She had insisted upon additional treatment and care of the injury because of the number of hours he had spent walking around with his broken leg simply bandaged up. He did not have the strength left to argue.  
  
Dumbledore had sent him away when Cornelius Fudge arrived, insisting that Madam Pomfrey take a look at his injuries. She had just finished attending to Hermione and Severus. Their care had required four hours, perhaps a bit more, and the school mediwitch's complete attention. In better circumstances, she almost certainly would have requested aid from the mediwitches and wizards of St. Mungo's Hospital.  
  
Remus had spent many hours that morning sitting with the Weasley family, three of whom were under Poppy's care, including Ginny, who had a concussion. She had fallen asleep while waiting for Madam Pomfrey, earning a mild scolding and a few mouthfuls of an especially nasty looking vermilion potion. Ginny had complained quietly and gone back to sleep, this time in a hospital bed next to her father's. Remus had sat in his chair watching over her for some time even after Molly and her uninjured offspring had been ordered out of the ward. They all needed rest, but the hospital wing was crowded enough as it was.  
  
And the wing was very crowded, Remus acknowledged, as he quietly rolled from his placed at Ginny's bedside, which he had occupied for a very long while as he waited for her to wake up again, toward the partitioned area of the ward. He wheeled down the ward with less than practiced ease, recounting of the names of the students and faculty members occupying the beds, resting after their sleepless night.   
  
Seamus Finnigan. Who was it that had informed him that Seamus and his best friend Dean Thomas had defeated Lucius Malfoy? Perhaps it had been Harry. The young wizard had lost a lot of blood from a wound caused by a conjured dagger. It was the last resort of a cornered Dark Wizard. Dean had only left his side when ordered to. The pair was as close as brothers. Remus sighed softly, paused, and rubbed his eyes as the sentiment made him think of James Potter and Sirius Black.  
  
Padma Patil. She was such a brilliant student. Apparently, Ginny wasn't the only one nearly blown up by a blasting curse. Parvati had been released already, but her sister was lying in bed with ointment-soaked bandages on her burned arms and hands. Remus was privately very glad that he had not seen it happen. Neville and Parvati had gotten her to the hospital wing very quickly despite the heavy fighting at the time.  
  
Susan Bones. Voldemort might have gotten her grandparents, but she had lived through this war. According to Finch-Fletchly, who was finally taking a career in wizarding medicine seriously, she had been rather shell-shocked - wonderful muggle expression - and had to be sedated. Madam Pomfrey said that the girl had nearly died of fright after killing a werewolf only a few years older than she was. She should never have been allowed to fight, everyone decided, though she was of great assistance until she was forced to kill.  
  
Professor Vector and Professor Sinistra. They remained side by side even there. Just as they had been on the battlefield when the older Crabbe and Goyle had come for their sons, who had been stunned early on in the fight when it became apparent whose side they were on. The professors had put up a good fight with their backs against the wall. Or more accurately the lake. They been exposed rather thoroughly to the Cruciatus curse, but their students, a pair of Ravenclaws and a Slytherin student by the name of Blaise Zabini, came to their aid and drove back the pair, defeating Goyle, but not Crabbe, who had possibly ambushed Arthur Weasley behind Hagrid's hut later that day.  
  
There were others who had been wounded, some more severely than others, including Colin Creevey who had been struck dumb by a curse. It was perhaps just temporary. He only remained in the hospital wing for observation. Remus glimpsed him sitting on a window sill and watching the rain outside.  
  
But then, there were the other students and professors. The ones in the other room. The ones who would not be recovering, who would not finish the school year nor begin another term in the autumn. The ones who had perished in the final battle.  
  
There would be many empty places at the tables next year, not to mention a new professor of charms and a new professor of care of magical creatures. Twelve students had perished, not including those who had gone over to the other side. Some part of Remus wanted to mourn their misspent lives, so brief and so wasted, but he couldn't do that yet. Maybe when everyone was well again, when life had returned to normal, but not yet. For the moment they were still the enemy.  
  
Lavender Brown's death was a hard blow to Neville Longbottom and to all of the Gryffindors. Neville had shown him a ring set with a lovely amethyst stone. He could not quite afford a proper engagement ring, but he wanted to give her that after the battle. And he did, slipping it onto her cold finger and kissing her hand before being led away by Parvati. She was taking him back to the Tower.  
  
Terry Boot and Su Li had died together, defending Filius Flitwick after he had been struck by a powerful curse. They had by all accounts been surrounded and outnumbered, though it had been only for a few moments. Their house mates had rushed to their aid, but those minutes were enough. It was a terrible tragedy, but Remus had to admit that Gryffindor house did not have a monopoly on courage.  
  
The fifth and sixth students had contributed much to the fight, as much as their older peers, and had suffered heavier losses. There had been no choice. Their side had needed soldiers, and the students and professors were nearly all that they had had from which to conscript their army.  
  
Of the fallen professors he would miss Hagrid the most perhaps, he thought, because the half-giant and he were so alike. Both had been treated shabbily because of what was in their blood whether by birth or by bite. But Flitwick too would be missed. His students were already lost without their head of house, their compass during stormy times. Remus knew that he would miss Flitwick's stories of days gone-by and his amiable manner. Who would replace them?  
  
And then there was another matter. Remus paused again as he remembered Minerva telling him that Alastor Moody had been killed. She had hinted that Ginny might have been there at the end. He shook his head. Ginny had been too disoriented to mention it earlier, but there had been a lingering sadness in her eyes. She had been told that her father and her unfortunate brother would be all right in time, so that was not the source of the emotion. He could only imagine what it must have been like for her.  
  
"Poor Ginny," he thought, "maybe I can make all of this up to her somehow. I would spend the rest of life ..."  
  
Remus simply shook his head and slid the screen aside as he made his way into the back portion of the ward where Severus and Hermione were being kept. He smiled a bit sadly as he looked at their beds, side by side and bathed in the soft, gray light from the windows. For an instant he fancied that they looked rather angelic. Then he remembered that they were both terribly injured and that not even Madam Pomfrey could say when or even if they would ever fully recover.  
  
Remus had begun wondering whether their story would have a happy ending or not during the night when Severus had been injured by a demon in the prison realm. He had realized then that Hermione harbored certain feelings for Severus, though he had suspected it even earlier. He had half believed that Severus would be too blinded by her heritage or her status as Gryffindor to see what she had to offer: strength and compassion. Remus had been pleasantly surprised when circumstances proved otherwise, that Severus was not half so prejudiced as he had thought.  
  
But now here they were, and it just didn't seem right.  
  
Professor Lupin looked at Hermione and felt the tragedy of the night they had all passed through weigh more heavily upon him. So much potential, he thought, shaking his head. Would she be allowed to realize it? Many of the students, his Ginny included, would recover in time and go on with their lives, wiser and sadder perhaps, but they would continue and live in days of peace that Remus hoped would last a very long time. But what would become of Hermione? Would she be able to take up her position as an assistant professor to Minerva in the fall? Remus chuckled bitterly and asked a simpler question, would she open her eyes again?  
  
And Severus only partially recovered from his earlier ordeal and facing grave injury yet again. Remus moved to his bedside and looked at his colleague, who had been his own schoolmate. They had never gotten along. Of course, that was mostly Severus' fault, but he accepted his share of the blame too. He had enjoyed all but one of Sirius' pranks on the dour and annoying Slytherin. They could never have been friends, but then ... Remus wished that it had been different between them.  
  
"Regret," he muttered. "You should understand that well enough," he said to the unconscious man in the hospital bed.  
  
There was a soft moan that sounded vaguely argumentative. The werewolf, if he had been able, he would have sprang up from the wheelchair in absolute astonishment. Remus craned his neck to see dark eyes glinting from beneath heavy lids. Severus had returned to the world of the waking.  
  
Madam Pomfrey had explained, during a spare moment between examining his broken leg and going to see to the Weasleys in her care, everything that she had done to keep Severus and Hermione alive. Remus knew comparatively little about the field of medicine. He had picked up a few things here and there due to his lycanthropy and the treatment he sometimes required after a transformation when he did not have his Wolfsbane potion and from his own professional field.  
  
But he knew that their injuries had been very serious, nearly fatal, especially in Severus' case because he had absorbed most of the impact himself. Hermione had been insulated by his body against much of the debris that had fallen upon them. Remus had seldom heard of someone doing something so self-sacrificing. It was doubly miraculous given the physical condition of the Slytherin head of house.  
  
Remus cast a gentle levitation charm on his chair to raise him up to the same height as Severus' bed so that he could have a better look at his colleague. For a brief moment Remus wondered whether or not Severus had come out of the Cruciatus induced madness at all, if he had somehow managed to save Hermione without regaining all of his faculties. Then he saw the expression of pain and agitation in those coal black eyes. That was truly Severus looking up at him through those eyes.   
  
Remus smiled at him in relief and said, "Welcome back."  
  
"Lupin?" questioned Severus in a hoarse voice. He sounded very weak and more than a little confused. "How did I get here?" he asked, licking his parched lips. Other than a few potions that were necessary to keep him alive, Madam Pomfrey had given him only a little bit of fluids.  
  
Remus glanced at a water pitcher and a pair of glasses on a table between the beds. He quickly summoned the pitcher and a glass and filled it for Severus.  
  
"Here," he said quietly, holding one hand behind Snape's head and helping him to drink with the other. Severus gulped the water gratefully. "You've had quite a time of it," Remus told him when he had finished.  
  
Severus nodded slowly and closed his eyes again as Remus took the glass away. Everything was a hazy muddle for him. He couldn't put any of it together in a way that made sense. There had been pain. No, that came later, didn't it? Or was it from before? He had left the castle and had met someone ... That seemed right. Then he had gone to look for someone else, someone important to him. Hermione. That was simple enough. Except that there had been a battle going on. His heart began to hammer in his chest. He gave a low groan of pain and fear. Something had happened to her. He just knew it. Stones, heavy stones falling upon them both ...  
  
"Hermione!" he screamed, her name tearing through his throat like hot, burning sand. He did nothing to prevent himself from crying out as it all came back to him in a flurry of images and a rush of painful emotions.  
  
Remus didn't know what to think when Severus' eyes flew open and he let out a blood-curdling scream that sounded like the name of the young woman lying in the next bed. He was surprised that Snape had the strength. As Severus began to struggle into a sitting position with limit success, Remus grasped him gently by the shoulders and restrained him.  
  
"Hush, hush, she's all right, Severus," Remus assured him.  
  
"Where is she?" he asked desperately.  
  
"She's right over here," said Remus, pointing toward the other bed. "Now, you must keep your voice down before Poppy comes back here and sedates you," he cautioned with a reassuring smile.  
  
"Thank you," Snape whispered, looking at Hermione and feeling calmer. "Is she all right?" he questioned.  
  
Remus squeezed his shoulder and tried to come up with a comforting answer.  
  
"Poppy seemed to think you were injured more severely, so Hermione is better off than you are, I suppose you could say."  
  
Remus watched curiously as Severus' eyes drifted from where they had rested on Hermione to his own legs.  
  
"I can't move," he said, beads of perspiration beginning to form on his skin.  
  
"Your legs?" questioned Remus.  
  
"Yes," he nodded.  
  
"Poppy mentioned that she had to rebuild part of your spinal column," Remus told him gently.  
  
"Was she successful?" he asked, staring at the end of the bed.  
  
"She didn't know."  
  
Severus tried desperately to move his legs, but they would not obey. They felt leaden. He merely nodded at Lupin's response. The werewolf reached down and pinched his calf. He was relieved when he felt the painful pressure.  
  
"Well?" asked Remus with a concerned expression on his face.  
  
"I can feel it," said Severus.  
  
"Perhaps when the potions wear off ..." Remus said.  
  
"And you?" asked Severus, looking at the wheelchair in which the other professor was hovering.  
  
"It's just a precaution. When the swelling goes down, Poppy will take another look at my leg. She thinks I may have a torn ligament or some nonsense," Remus explained.  
  
"I assume that the battle was won," said Severus after a quiet moment.  
  
"Yes, Harry defeated Voldemort."  
  
"He lived up to everyone's expectations. There were times when I had my doubts," said Severus with a slight nod.  
  
"I don't know how much of it you witnessed ..." Remus began.  
  
"Very little," said Severus.  
  
"You did well, saving Hermione's life in your condition," said Remus quickly. He knew how Severus felt about the previous battle. It was no secret among the older members of the Order.  
  
"What were our casualties?" he questioned, brushing aside the compliment, but grateful for it nonetheless.  
  
"Severus," he said in a cautious tone, "I don't think you're up to hearing such things just now."  
  
"So you leave me to worry myself to distraction," said Severus with a soft snort. "I can manage, Remus. How many of my children have I lost?" he questioned in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.  
  
"Your Slytherins?"  
  
"Who else."  
  
"Crabbe and Goyle were taken into custody. Anna and Beatrice took care of that. Malfoy ... we don't know how yet, but he was killed. There are suspicions ..."  
  
"Yes, I had certain suspicions concerning Draco as well," nodded Snape, choosing not to mention his fear that Lucius had been controlling him. "And the rest of my house?" he persisted.  
  
"Derek Rosier was killed by a stray curse. Whatever his parents might have been, Derek was a credit to ... a credit to your house, Severus," Remus informed him.  
  
"I know," nodded the professor, closing his eyes for a moment.  
  
"Zabini helped save Professors Sinistra and Vector after they had dispatched Crabbe and Goyle and their fathers came for revenge."  
  
"Injured?"  
  
"No, but brave nonetheless," shrugged Remus. "You have a few fifth and sixth years with broken fingers. All of the other curses and hexes have already been attended to. They did very well," he said.  
  
"And what of the rest of the students?" asked Severus.  
  
"Severus, this can surely wait until you've rested, until you feel better," said Remus.  
  
Severus frowned and said, "Perhaps if you would simply tell me that Miss Weasley is all right, I would be willing to agree to that."  
  
Remus was quite touched by the compassionate gesture hidden behind those slightly snarky words. Severus was concerned about his dear Ginny's welfare. He smiled and squeezed Severus' shoulder again.  
  
"Of course, Ginny is just fine. She has a concussion, but Poppy gave her something to sort her out. She will be fine in a day or so," answered Remus.  
  
"I'm pleased," said Severus with a small nod.  
  
"Thank you," chuckled Remus.  
  
"One last question?"  
  
"I suppose, but then I must fetch Poppy. She will be very excited to see that you are doing so well."  
  
Severus started to grumble, but shook his head and told Remus, "Whatever you think is best." That caused the other professor to raise an eyebrow. Severus was certainly being agreeable. "Did we lose any of our colleagues?" he inquired.  
  
"Filius and Hagrid," Remus told him quietly.  
  
"I see," said Severus with a soft sigh. "You won't elaborate?"  
  
"Not at present," he answered, lowering his wheelchair to the floor again. "Back in a moment," he told Snape.  
  
Severus began to feel tired again once the squeaky sound of that obviously muggle contraption faded into the distance. Remus was most likely going to Pomfrey's office, he decided, letting his eyelids droop slightly.   
  
He turned his head and looked at Hermione. She seemed so peaceful. The memory of his experiences, his delusions, while in the grips of madness were still with him. She had given him such a good reason to return to the world of the sane. He smiled softly at her and did not dare think that any harm might befall her nor that this harm might be lasting.  
  
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A/N: This has taken longer to update than expected for editting reasons (in addition to vacation) and because I'm so very tired. For all those who asked *smiles* I had a very nice time. Thanks!  
  
  
hm: No, definitely not. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
michelle (the one who thinks I'm insane): Um, age differenced couples are the norm in my family and among my friends. It may not seem normal to you, but for me (the author), it isn't that unusual. Plus there is the fact that wizards and witches live longer than muggles, so technically the age differences should be halved to reflect that. Oh, well, opinions are like noses: everyone has one.  
  
Pidgie: Thank you for the review!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: Sorry about that (but I needed a vacation). And I couldn't kill Fred and/or George (again). It would have been too sad. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Enfleurage: Darn. The watch ... I forgot about the watch. *pokes self in the eye* I'm glad you enjoyed the POV though. Ginny is very difficult (for me) to handle. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Luna Writer: No, you don't have to obsess that long. It's just me. *sigh* Thank you for the review!  
  
Dawn: Thank you!  
  
Laura: You would have killed me over Percy? *blinks* Well, I have certain rules that I use when writing battles (no, really, I do). And because of that not everyone dies. I bet that just made no sense. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
~lei: I would write a(nother) sequel if I could, but I think that after the epilogue, that will be it. Thanks for the review!  
  
Jasmine Black: I had a great time. Thanks! And, yeah, it is too bad about Alastor. Thank you for the review!  
  
ElvenEnchantress: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: Aw ... Thanks for the review!  
  
Lily of the Shadow: I am very Tolkien obsessed (it scares my friends sometimes). Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Zaeria: I can take a hint! Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Alexial: Well, I could do anything too terrible to the Weasleys *eyes Percy's arm*. Thank you for the review!  
  
JoeBob1379: Thanks for the review!  
  
myancestorsarefromFinland: (Wow, are they really? That's so cool!) Thanks for the info and the review!  
  
michelline: Aw, but maiming is my specialty! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
LadySnape: I think I answered the 'everone else' part of your question nicely. *grin* Thanks for the review!  
  
Sammy: *blushes* Thanks!  
  
Lady Death: Meep... I think I'm flattered (or frightened). Thanks for the review!  
  
Ezmerelda: Well, yes, they do deserve happiness at this point, but no one ever gets what they deserve (learned that in high school). Mostly joking. I think ... Thank you reviewing!  
  
marina: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  
Unwanted additional note: Who is Derek Rosier you ask? Recall, if you will, a student named Derek who remained for the holidays in PoA (chapter 11) and was nervous around Dumbledore. Rosier was a Death Eater listed in GoF (chapter 30) as dead. Oh, the things I do for my own amusement.  
  
  



	22. In which Hermione awakens

Chapter Twenty-two  
  
In which Hermione awakens  
  
  
  
It was very strange. There were quiet and indistinct voices moving in and out of hearing range. Mumbling, soft voices that she couldn't quite recognize or pin down. It became rather frustrating after a few minutes. It was as though her ears were stuffed with cotton, or like she was half asleep, but couldn't quite wake up. And then there was a low squeaking sound.  
  
"I don't know that sound at all," Hermione told herself as it faded into the distance and then ceased altogether.  
  
Slowly she became aware that she was lying down on a soft surface and that much of her body ached. It felt as though she had the flu or as though something terrible had happened. She couldn't remember falling from the Astronomy Tower, though she imagined it would feel something like this.  
  
Then there was another voice, low and melodic, in her ear that took her mind off the pain and distracted her from the confusion.  
  
"My love?" he whispered. And he repeated those two words as though they were a healing incantation or a song.  
  
Hermione longed to answer him, but could not find her voice.  
  
Warm fingers intertwined themselves between her own, connecting her to the world of the living and of the waking. She relaxed and calmed as she recognized the voice.  
  
"Severus is with me," she thought with relief.  
  
Then her heart seemed to flutter as she realized exactly what that meant: he was alive and he was well. It was more than she could have hoped for, so much more.  
  
Searching for her voice again, she found it and softly spoke his name. Her voice was low and strange in her own ears.  
  
"Love?" he questioned, squeezing her hand as her eyes opened slowly.  
  
The room was very bright, uncomfortably so, and Hermione lowered her eyelids again, surprised by the amount of light and momentary painfulness that it caused.  
  
"Where am I?" she asked in the quietest of whispers.  
  
Something soft and ticklish brushed against her cheek as he leaned down to hear her voice. She opened her eyes again just as Severus brushed a dark lock of hair behind his ear.  
  
"Where?" she repeated.  
  
"The hospital wing," he replied with a small smile.  
  
She blinked at the look on his face, hardly comprehending it. There were tears in his dark eyes that soon spilled down his thin, sallow cheeks. He was pale, but his color was beginning to return. But the smile surprised her most. Seldom had such an unguarded expression come to his face in waking life. Hermione marveled at it and cautiously brought a leaden hand to touch his damp cheek. The smile was as real as the tears.  
  
"Severus," she said with a smile of her own.  
  
"Of course," he replied, placing one hand over hers and closing his eyes for a moment.  
  
"Why are you crying?" she asked.  
  
"I was worried ... that you wouldn't wake up ..." he said as his voice and his smile faltered.  
  
"I'm all right," she assured him as her hand slipped from beneath his. She simply didn't have the strength to keep it there.  
  
"I know that now," he said, leaning away from her and managing another smile.  
  
"Is the battle ... over?" Hermione questioned hesitantly, closing her eyes again. The question came to her lips almost without conscious thought.  
  
"Yes," he answered, "it has been a few days since the battle ended."  
  
"Good," she said, feeling slightly sleepy. If they were together, then there was no need to inquire about the final outcome. They had surely won. "And everyone?" she asked, opening her eyes again with some difficulty.  
  
"Now is not the time for such things. When you are better, then I can tell you of those matters, but certainly not while you are still injured and ill," he said solemnly.  
  
She wanted to protest and vehemently, but Hermione could not find the energy. It simply was not there. She felt incredibly drained and tired.  
  
"I've missed you," he said in low voice, taking her hand again.  
  
"Funny thing to say. I don't think we were ever apart for more than a few hours," she answered with a drowsy chuckle.  
  
"No, I suppose we haven't been," he agreed.  
  
"Inseparable," she whispered.  
  
"As we should be," he said, but Hermione had drifted away, drifted to sleep without hearing him.  
  
He kissed her hand before wiping the tears from his eyes and calling for Madam Pomfrey.  
  
~  
  
Hermione wasn't sure how much time had passed when next she opened her eyes. It felt as though it had been several hours, possibly longer, but thankfully her head was much clearer and the ache had dulled significantly. She opened her eyes and sat up slowly.   
  
It was dark in the hospital wing and rather quiet. Little did Hermione know that they, Severus and herself, were the last two patients in the ward that had been full to capacity just days earlier. The rest of those injured in the battle had already been discharged. The students had returned to their dormitories, the professors to their chambers, and the rest to their homes. Peace and calm were returning to the school at last.  
  
With thoughts of peace, upon which she did not dare to dwell, Hermione turned and looked at the sleeping figure in the bed next to her own. She smiled as she listened to his soft snore and admired the peaceful expression that touched his features.  
  
"Severus," she whispered, not to rouse him, but merely to say his name, the name of the man she loved and felt as though she always would.  
  
"He's asleep," a crisp voice at her other elbow informed her.  
  
Hermione started and turned. Madam Pomfrey was standing there with a vial of violet potion in one hand and a small cup in the other.  
  
"You startled me," said Hermione as Poppy filled the cup for her.  
  
"Well, you've scared all of us enough for two lifetimes. It only seems fair," said the mediwitch as she gave the potion to Hermione. "For the pain, dear," she said in a softer tone.  
  
"It isn't bad," said Hermione.  
  
"It will be," said Pomfrey. "You may not realize it at the moment, but you were terribly injured. Not to mention that you were severely drained, magically speaking, which was a terrible hindrance in treating you. Your reserves, so to speak, were very low, dangerously low in fact."  
  
Hermione sipped the potion and tried not to pull a face. It was very bitter and tasted more _medicinal_ the most draughts she had been given. Quite a nasty combination.  
  
"From what I remember ... I can well imagine," murmured Hermione into the cup.  
  
"I don't know what exactly protected Severus and you. His magical reflexes, I suppose, but it was a near thing."  
  
Her eyes drifted toward Severus again as she returned the vessel to Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"I spoke to him earlier ..." Hermione hesitated.  
  
"Yes, I know."  
  
"Then ... he will be all right, won't he?"  
  
"He is healing _very_ slowly, thanks to ... well, I imagine you know why. But Severus is on the mend. It could require months ... several months before he is completely healed. And even then ..."  
  
"But to have gone through so much ..."  
  
"He is incredibly lucky. About that there can be no mistake," said Poppy with quiet conviction.  
  
"Severus wouldn't tell me very much about the battle," said Hermione.  
  
"Sometimes he has very good sense," she replied, pursing her lips. "But there's no reason for you not to know now."  
  
"Please," said Hermione, struggling into a more comfortable position. For the first time she noticed that she felt rather weak and sickly, not to mention that her limbs were heavy and mildly uncooperative. "My friends ..." she said in a questioning tone.  
  
"Potter and Weasley pulled through just fine," said Poppy with a slight smile. "Miss Weasley was injured, but discharged the day before yesterday with orders to take it easy. Professor Lupin will probably see to that, although he is still injured himself. I wish that I could ... well, never mind," said Pomfrey, shaking her head.  
  
The potion required to mend injuries such as his contained silver, and as Remus was a werewolf, she could not use the potion on him. He was healing more slowly because of it.  
  
"And Professor McGonagall ... We had an encounter with a very large giant," said Hermione.  
  
"Her arm was broken, but that was easily put right again."  
  
"Excellent," nodded Hermione before taking a deep breath and asking a more difficult question, "Did we lose anyone?"  
  
She knew that it was not an easy question to ask or to answer, but she felt hopeful, knowing that so many of her friends had survived. She had not been there when the gate was stormed nor had she witnessed the heavy fighting on so many fronts. Hermione had only seen an empty hospital wing, not knowing that it was days after the fighting had ended.  
  
"Yes, a number of students and two of our professors," said Pomfrey somberly.  
  
"Any one I would know?" asked Hermione in an unsteady voice.  
  
"Lavender Brown and several students of your year from Ravenclaw. Professor Flitwick and Hagrid," Pomfrey informed her. "Twelve students in all," she added, not including those on the other side nor those taken into custody. "And Mister Moody."  
  
The mediwitch looked away for a moment. Every time she spoke or considered the grim statistics, the 'acceptable losses' as the Ministry of Magic had called them, the grief and sadness seemed to wash over her anew.  
  
"So many," Hermione whispered.  
  
"Yes," Poppy agreed with a small nod, "but that was the price that had to be paid."  
  
They were both quiet for a moment until Severus in the next bed yawned softly and sat up. Poppy smiled as she watched Hermione's eyes brighten.  
  
"You're awake," said Severus in a mildly, but pleasantly surprised voice as he pulled himself into a sitting position with a slight wince.  
  
"I am," said Hermione with a chuckle.  
  
"Don't tire her out talking, Severus," Poppy warned the potions' master before leaving them. She knew that they had things to say to one another that were best said without an audience.  
  
"You look much better, you know," Snape commented, looking at her with a steady and thoughtful expression on his face.  
  
"So do you," Hermione said in return.  
  
"I've been worried," he admitted, taking her hand and squeezing it. "I don't remember a lot of what happened ... just that I needed to find you and that I was very fortunate that I did so," said Severus, taking a deep breath as he remembered watching the battlement crumble and hurtle to earth, toward his dear Hermione.  
  
Hermione knew it wasn't easy for him to speak so candidly about such things and squeezed his hand in return.   
  
He smiled softly and looked into her eyes. The warmth, the love in them left him momentarily speechless.  
  
"You saved my life, Severus," she said quietly.  
  
"And without you ... I would have had nothing to live for, nothing to bring me back from the madness," he replied, leaning toward her and kissing her forehead tenderly.  
  
"We're so lucky," she murmured as she released his hand and put her arms around him.  
  
"Yes," Severus agreed hoarsely, holding her as close as he could manage.  
  
They were silent for a few moments, but words weren't necessary. Severus and Hermione knew how close they had come to losing one another and could not express their thankfulness in any manner other than that heartfelt embrace.  
  
"There were times," Hermione began to say, choosing to be the first to break the comfortable silence that had enveloped them, "when I was sure I was going to lose you."  
  
Severus stroked her curly hair and asked, "When I was ... mad?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I knew ... much of the time at least ... that you were there with me too."  
  
"Too?" she questioned.  
  
"That I wasn't alone," he amended, wanting to say no more than that for the moment. To tell her about his delusions of Phaedrus would have been too taxing, for both of them, he feared.  
  
"I'm glad you knew," said Hermione, sensing, intuiting that Severus was hiding something. But she chose not to pursue the matter until later and instead relished his comforting presence.  
  
The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat behind her was the only thing that made Hermione release Severus. She turned to see Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall standing there watching them with amused expressions. A faint blush crept into her cheeks. Had she glanced over her shoulder she would have noticed Severus coloring a bit as well.  
  
"It is good to see both you looking well again, at long last, it seems," said Dumbledore with a quiet, disarming chuckle.  
  
"Thank you, professor," said Hermione with a small, almost sheepish smile.  
  
"Albus and Minerva have been visiting us every day since the end of the war," Severus informed her, leaning over to straighten her pillows for her. The slight strain in his voice as he did so did not go unnoticed.  
  
"As have many of your friends," Minerva informed Hermione. "And how are you feeling?" she questioned.  
  
"Better. Thank you," nodded Hermione.  
  
Albus looked at his young colleague with twinkling eyes and said, "But we know that Severus is certainly feeling much better now that Miss Granger has joined us again."  
  
"Indeed. I don't recall ever seeing him look so happy before," commented Professor McGonagall, trying to disguise that smile that was tugging at her lips as she looked at the very pleased expression that Snape wore. Certainly that was something seldom seen.  
  
"Teasing, Minerva? So unlike you," said Severus with a carefully arched eyebrow.  
  
"Not at all. I was merely making an observation," she replied, the smile getting the better of her.  
  
"Now, what brought us here?" Albus asked her.  
  
"Other than visiting our favorite students?" she questioned.  
  
It was obvious to anyone watching them, or more precisely Severus and Hermione, that the two professors were a great deal more familiar than they had seemed previously.  
  
Albus' eyes twinkled even more at Minerva's statement, which was truer than Snape or Hermione would ever know, and he said, "Naturally, my dear."  
  
"Because the two of you were incapacitated and could not attend the ceremony earlier this evening, Minerva and I accepted these on your behalf," said Albus, reaching into his robe and removing two scrolls.  
  
Hermione glanced at Severus and saw him flush slightly and look away as Dumbledore presented them with the scrolls.  
  
"What are they?" asked Hermione.  
  
"A last ditch effort by Cornelius Fudge to stay in the good graces of the wizarding community," answered Dumbledore, becoming suddenly rather somber.  
  
Hermione unrolled the parchment and nearly laughed as she read, "Order of Merlin, Second Class." She looked at Severus who had not bothered to unroll his.  
  
"The things I would have done ..." he began in a quiet voice, but then, he merely shook his head and offered the document back to Dumbledore. "I can't accept it," he said with a sigh, recalling that terrible night in the Shrieking Shack four years earlier. How he had longed for the validation such an honor would have brought him then ...  
  
"That's exactly what Mister Potter and Mister Weasley said," Minerva informed him as Hermione rolled the parchment up again and returned hers too.  
  
"No one has accepted yet, though I imagine Neville Longbottom might have felt somewhat tempted," said Albus.  
  
"I don't understand. Why is the Ministry doing this?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Because we were right," answered Dumbledore simply.  
  
"I see," said Hermione, feeling a flash of anger that the Minister of Magic thought that he could cover up his own negligence and incompetence by handing out a few, or even a lot, of awards. It was despicable.  
  
"Feel free to burn mine," said Severus.  
  
"And mine," said Hermione.  
  
"It will be quite the bonfire," said Minerva. "Three Order Merlin, First Class; more than twenty Second Class; and just as many Third Class," she commented. Hermione could not tell whether the deputy headmistress was angry or simply disappointed, or perhaps a mixture of both.  
  
"I suppose we should take our leave now," said Dumbledore, allowing Minerva to slip her arm neatly into his.  
  
"Thank you," said Hermione with Snape echoing her sentiments.  
  
"Disgusting, wasn't it?" he questioned after they had gone.  
  
"If only things could have been different ... I imagine that most of my classmates _earned_ those awards," said Hermione, nodding in agreement with his opinion.  
  
"Without a doubt," Severus agreed easily.   
  
He had heard enough stories already to know that Hermione's conjecture was true. Many students, professors, and other members of the magical community involved in the battle _deserved_ tremendous praise and heaps of laurels from their fellow wizards and witches for their brave deeds. But such praise would only be tainted and insincere coming from Fudge and his cronies. And it would not bring back those who had died because of their negligence. Not any of the hapless victims nor those who had perished on the battlefields. Not Black. Not Brown. Not Rosier. Not any of them.  
  
"Severus?" questioned Hermione hesitantly as a dark look clouded his eyes. She cautiously reached for his hand again and clutched it.  
  
He tried to smile for her once more, but it would not come.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Ruminating," he answered.  
  
"Grieving?" she suggested in a questioning tone.  
  
He was grateful for the look of understanding in her warm brown eyes. He nodded in response to her suggestion, her softer and kinder word, and squeezed her hand. There was nothing he could say to her.  
  
"There is a time for everything," she said gently, taking a deep breath as she thought of those who were now gone, though she did not yet know all of their names.  
  
"Wise words," commented Severus as he found his voice again.  
  
"I suppose so," she replied, studying him thoughtfully.  
  
They were both quiet for several minutes until Hermione yawned softly.  
  
"You should rest. You should not overexert yourself too soon, and it is becoming very late," Severus told her, glancing at their reflections in the darkened windows across the ward.  
  
"Sound advice," Hermione chuckled, releasing his hand and making herself more comfortable.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey's ... among others," said Snape with a bemused expression.  
  
"Remus?" she guessed.  
  
"Yes," Severus nodded, "he has visited quite often."  
  
Hermione smiled and said, "I imagine you have been surrounded by Gryffindors day in and day out then."  
  
"I survived," he shrugged with a slight smirk. "Now, get some sleep before I have Poppy bring you something," said Severus with a raised eyebrow and a sneer that Hermione could tell was a put-on.  
  
"The same goes for you," she answered primly.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
A/N: The reason why this has taken so long is because I spent the last several days writing and revising it. Originally, I had planned to cover this stuff in the epilogue, but after reading a couple of reviews, I changed my mind (miracle of miracles *sarcasm* because normally I don't do that) and added this chapter. So that just leaves the epilogue, which I should have up in a timely manner. Thanks!  
  
  
Pidgie: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
marina: I ignored the rumored fifth year death during the story, so if it turns out to be Hagrid (my guess), then he lived two years longer ... I'm trying to find something positive to say here, but that's all I've come up with. I'll be really sad if he dies in the books, but in fan fiction, everyone is fair game. Thanks for the review!  
  
Alexial: I thought it would be too cheesy/fluffy if everyone lived (and happily-ever-after). Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn: I know, I know. Why Hagrid? I had them draw lots (no, not really). Thank you for the review!  
  
LinZE: Hmm... In Star Trek too? *furrows brow* I can't think of an example from Trek. And, no, I'm not quite done. (You're hearing wedding bells?) Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Jasmine Black: I really didn't want Lavender to die, but if only single, uninvolved people were killed in the battle, I think one of the tragic aspects would have been missing. (And I just couldn't kill Arthur or Molly or one of the main characters). Thanks for the review!  
  
ElvenEnchantress: Hagrid dies a lot. People have theories ... and I listen to them. Sorry! Thank you for reviewing!  
  
excessivelyperky: Thanks for the review!  
  
LadyTiffany: Thank you!  
  
Ezmerelda: A happy ending in every pot? That, I've never heard before. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Mrs. Niles Crane: (Niles was always my favorite Crane.) Thanks for the review!  
  
Lily of the Shadow: Yes, very sad. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Tegan: I agree. Alternate dimensions can be quite fun. I was a sci-fi fan before getting into Harry Potter ... I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thank you for the review!  
  
Laura: I know. Killing Hagrid and Flitwick was awful, but ... it was just something that had to happen. I worry about the future books too. Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: Hermione was magically drained (from taking care of Severus and conjuring the Patronus). I think I mentioned it in this chapter. As for Albus and Minerva ... I'm juggling too many characters and relationships, but I'll get back to them. Thank you for the review!  
  
JoeBob1379: Thanks for the review!  
  
Sammy: Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Static Wolf: I think I answered your questions. This was the last chapter, but it does have an epilogue. Thank you for the review!  
  
Lady Death: Thanks for reviewing!  
  
Jules: Thanks (especially for that comment about Remus, who is a great combination of fun, yet difficult to write)!  
  
LadySnape: Aw ... Sorry about Hagrid (though I seldom hear people list him among their favorites). Oh, and I think a crippled Snape would be just as menacing (but he might have to work harder at it). Not that I'm saying either way ... Thank you for the review!  
  
  



	23. In which there is an Epilogue

Chapter Twenty-three  
  
(In which there is an) Epilogue  
  
  
Three weeks later ...  
  
  
"I can't believe Fudge finally resigned." said Minerva, folding up the previous day's issue of _The Daily Prophet_ and laying it on the night table.  
  
"You sound almost disappointed, my dear." chuckled Albus, looking up from a few official documents he happened to be perusing. The end of the second war against Lord Voldemort and his followers had generated a nearly endless stream of paperwork, with which the school and its staff were still coping.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous! It was about time. That's all." Minerva told him, looking over his shoulder at a scroll detailing the findings of an official inquiry into the death of Draco Malfoy.   
  
Severus had requested it. It was found that the young wizard had been subjected to the Imperious curse for nearly three years. The curse had quite likely been placed upon him by his father. The signs had gone all but unnoticed, but that was not surprising, all things considered. Draco had simply not been strong enough to resist it effectively, and the late Lucius Malfoy had been an expert in its use. It was all very sad.  
  
"I hardly think that's acceptable bedtime reading." she commented.  
  
"I suppose not, but I will be handing it over to Severus in the morning. I thought I should have a look at it first." he said.  
  
"Of course." said Minerva quietly. "Who do you suppose will be the next Minister of Magic?" she asked.  
  
Albus shuffled his papers for a moment before placing them on the stand by the bed and turning toward Minerva. He propped up on one elbow, knowing where the conversation was going.  
  
"I will probably be asked again. But I believed I shall decline." he informed her. "Unless you have something to say about that ..." he added.  
  
"Are you ready to leave Hogwarts?" she questioned.  
  
"No, and I don't think I ever will be, Minerva."  
  
"Just as well, I suppose." she nodded. "I'm not cut out to be a politician's wife."  
  
They had been married almost a week earlier, right after the daily routine of the school had returned to normal. Minerva glanced at the wedding band that she wore. It had been a long enough courtship, she decided once she had paused to consider the matter. They had known each other for many years, and their friendship had been the closest she had ever known. Regardless of the obstacles they had faced, the trials and tribulations of those long years had only drawn them closer together. But she was grateful that their actual engagement had been rather short.  
  
The ceremony had been held in the Great Hall with all of Hogwarts in attendance. Many of the students and faculty were still in mourning for their fallen friends, professors, students, and colleagues. All of the celebration that had accompanied the end of Voldemort's first reign of terror had been conspicuously absent from this victory. The cost of his defeat had seemed very high to many of them. It was for that reason the Minerva had first suggested that they get married in London or barring that, in the small wizarding community in Glasgow. But Albus thought that it would be more fitting for the ceremony to take place at Hogwarts. In the end she had agreed.  
  
And when everything was said and done, Minerva McGonagall, who had elected to retain her own surname to avoid confusion and because of her own substantial professional accomplishments, was very glad she had given into Albus' wishes. The smiles on the students' faces when she walked down the aisle, so to speak, were the brightest she had seen in weeks. A wedding, a new beginning for the two professors, was something that lightened the hearts of everyone who witnessed it, including members of the teaching staff who were just beginning to adjust to the loss of two of their own.  
  
Albus had asked Professor Snape to act as his best man, but unfortunately Severus simply wasn't up to the task yet. He had taught many of his classes from behind a desk, gladly or at least willing accepting Dumbledore's offer to teach some of them in his place to allow him to recuperate more thoroughly.   
  
In the end Albus had contacted his old friend Mundungus Fletcher, who had been invaluable during the war because of all of the secret information he was able to ferret out of Ministry officials for the Order. Mundungus simply had a way about him, but even Albus had thought him too mentally unbalanced to have on the battlefield in the end.  
  
Minerva had chosen Agatha Sprout to act as her maid of honour. She had been torn between asking Poppy or the Herbology professor, but the mediwitch was still on her last nerve following the events of the previous weeks. The younger woman would have been happy to do it, of course, but Minerva did not feel that it would be fair to ask her.  
  
But Professor McGonagall had another choice to make that was much more difficult. Both of her parents had died during the Grindelwald conflict while she was still in school, so Minerva had no one in her family, neither brothers nor other willing relatives, to walk her down the aisle and give her away, though at her age she found the idea a bit tiresome. If not for his death, Minerva might have asked Professor Flitwick, who had taught her during her years as a student. Her choice when everything was said and done was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, the Gryffindor house ghost, who only too glad to float beside her down the aisle.  
  
It was by all accounts a very lovely and touching ceremony, which none of the students would ever forget. To many of them, as they would state in later years, it marked the end of a time of great grief that was mixed with bittersweet triumph and the beginning of a time of healing for them all.  
  
Minerva sighed softly and smiled at her husband as she remembered how wonderful their wedding had been.  
  
"I am recommending that Arthur Weasley be considered for Minister of Magic when he is well enough to take it on." said Albus. "If things had been otherwise in the Ministry, he might have gotten it before now." he added. He meant that if Arthur had not been what Fudge's people called a 'muggle-lover'.  
  
"He would do a fine job." Minerva agreed.  
  
"Yes." Albus nodded. "And young Percy Weasley will probably see more successful days in the Ministry too, though it is a shame about his arm."  
  
"Yes, but whenever those who supported Fudge see Percy, they will be reminded about the war, which would not have been half as long nor as wretched if we had had their full cooperation." she said.  
  
"Indeed not." Albus agreed, his eyes twinkling at her outspokenness and firm convictions. He loved those qualities.  
  
"The children will be leaving the day after tomorrow." she said with a quiet sigh. "Can you believe it, Albus? This year is finally drawing to a close."  
  
"It has been quite a year, hasn't it?" he chuckled, gently pulling Minerva into his arms and kissing the top of her head.  
  
He knew how she was feeling. It would be very difficult to let go of the students that would be leaving them this year: Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus and Dean, the Patil sisters, Blaise Zabini, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and all of the others who had participated in the battles and proved themselves there. The school would be entering a new era without these young wizards and witches. But at least one of that year would remain ...  
  
  
The next afternoon ...  
  
  
Severus was lying in bed and grading the third year potions' examinations when he heard someone opening the door to his apartment. He glanced at the parchments, feeling momentarily disappointed that finding fault with the exam papers did not have the same appeal that it once held for him, and set them aside, looking curiously toward the bedroom door. Then he heard her voice.  
  
"Severus, where are you?" she called.  
  
The very sound make his skin prickle and tingle with excitement as he left the bed and tossed a dressing gown on over his bedclothes. He felt slightly giddy, but it wasn't from his medication. Something about her voice could simply make feel like a schoolboy again, and this time, the experience was a far more pleasant one.  
  
"In here, Hermione." he called in return, making his way toward the door as quickly as he could. He was still taking a number of potions for the injuries he had received when Hermione and he had been buried by a shower of masonry and debris during the final battle.  
  
When Hermione appeared in the doorway, a smile spread across his face, the like of which had seldom graced his features before. If some of his students had seen him at that moment, they would have fainted in shock at the very least. Severus held out his arms to her, and she dashed toward him with a slightly stiff gait, dropping her school bag by the door. Her recovery was coming along nicely, but her steps were still a bit slower, a bit heavier than they had been before the terrible battle.  
  
Severus threw his arms around her and buried his face in her curly hair. She grasped a fist full of his robes in each hand and rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the loud thud of his heartbeat. Looking at them standing there with their eyes closed, anyone would have guessed that they had been apart for days or weeks, though it had only been since noon or so. That embrace was their usual greeting. They had come so very close to losing one another that a simple, mundane salutation would never suffice for them.  
  
Severus whispered something into her hair that caused her to nod and slowly release him. Hermione smiled as she looked up at him and tugged him by the hand back to the bed. He didn't protest as she chuckled and slipped the green dressing gown from his shoulders. He sat down and looked up at her quizzically as she began unbuttoning her school robes.  
  
"Love?" he questioned curiously.  
  
Hermione chuckled and cupped his face in her hands before leaning down and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened the kiss. His heart was pounding again. In an instant Severus had pulled her onto the bed, holding her tightly against him as she lavished soft, but passionate kisses upon him. A soft moan escaped his lips and her hands found their way underneath his nightclothes.  
  
"I finally did it." she whispered in a breathy voice into his ear.  
  
"The protective charms?" he managed as she finished unbuttoning his nightshirt.  
  
"Of course." she replied.  
  
"Then you want to ..." he said in a questioning tone, running his fingers through her hair as she kissed his throat and worked her way down to his shoulder and collar bone. He shivered slightly.  
  
"Do you think that it's advisable ...?" Hermione asked him delicately as he began toying with the buttons of her blouse.  
  
"Poppy suggested that I take it easy for a few weeks ... but I think it has been long enough." he said.  
  
"She gave me the same advice." said Hermione with a soft chuckle, caressing his cheek and resting her head in the crook of his neck.  
  
Severus closed his eyes for a moment, squeezing her tightly in his arms.  
  
"Of course, we don't have to rush. I'm not going home for the summer or anything. My rooms will be ready tomorrow evening. And they aren't far away, especially not by floo." she told him thoughtfully.  
  
Severus started at this bit of news and opened his eyes before sitting up slowly and taking her with him. He frowned slightly. All desire was wiped momentarily at least from his mind in the confusion and uncertainty that her words caused him.  
  
"But I thought you would stay here with me. There is plenty of room in my apartments for all your things." Severus told her, looking into her eyes.  
  
"Severus, it's all a bit sudden, isn't it? I mean, count the days we've been together, subtracting out the ones where one or both of us were unconscious or injured. I thought ... I mean, Severus, I would never dream of intruding or anything." said Hermione seriously.  
  
Severus took one of her hands in his as he struggled to decide what to say to her. He gently chafed her fingers between his. It had become a familiar habit in the hospital wing while he had waited for her to awaken and to regain use of his legs, both of which had taken the better part of a week. He drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them as he was flooded with an almost overwhelming sense of thankfulness that she had lived, that they both lived, and that they had days and years ahead of them to spend together.  
  
"Love," he said as his voice became slight hoarse with emotion, "I will always respect your decisions. I will always _try_ to do so. But you must know that I want you here by my side, not just sometimes or when the mood suits, but everyday and always. And you are very much welcome to share this drafty dungeon with me."  
  
Hermione marveled at how much he had changed. He was so different from the slightly insecure, sometimes inadvertently venomous, and frequently aloof man who had gone to his last Death Eater meeting that night so many weeks earlier. She could hardly believe that he was really and earnestly inviting her to live with him. She had the sudden urge to pinch herself to see if she were dreaming.  
  
"Severus, I ... I don't know what to say. I would love to live with you." said Hermione.  
  
He smiled warmly at her. Somehow Hermione wasn't sure that she would ever quite get used to that.  
  
"But now you have to answer one question for me." she said with a hint of mischief in her eyes.  
  
He narrowed his eyes just slightly and questioned, "Yes?"  
  
"I know that something happened ... while you were ..." and here she groped for the appropriate choice of words, but could not find them.  
  
"While I was driven mad?" he asked, leaning toward her and kissing her softly. "It's all right." he whispered reassuringly as he noticed the anxiety in her eyes.  
  
"Do you remember any of it?" she questioned, blinking away a few stray tears.  
  
Severus considered her question, or rather how to answer her. He pulled Hermione into his arms and rested his head on top of hers. He sighed softly. There was no easy way to explain everything that had happened within his own mind while he had been in the grips of the curse-induced dementia.  
  
She could sense his hesitance. Hermione had tried more than once to open such a discussion while they were still in the hospital wing, their beds pushed close enough together for him to hold her hand and occasionally lean over the railings to give her a kiss. Severus had subtly avoided the inquiry by reminding Hermione it was time for her to have one potion or another. She had dropped the subject shortly thereafter when she saw the uncomfortable look in his eyes.  
  
"You don't have to say, Severus, if it was really terrible." she said softly, placing her hand on his chest. She could feeling his heart beating quickly but steadily.  
  
"It wasn't all bad." he told her hesitantly, placing his hand over hers. "I just don't know how to explain without it sounding foolish or like something a complete lunatic would say."  
  
"I would never even think anything like that." she said in a surprised and mildly reproachful tone. "You can always tell me anything." she assured him.  
  
Severus took a deep breath and began, "I wasn't exactly alone in my mind when I was mad. Someone else was with me. He looked exactly my father, but he told me that he was a delusion, and the undamaged part of my mind ..."  
  
  
Early evening that same day ...  
  
  
Remus was lying on his back on the floor in his apartment with Ginny kneeling at his feet, pushing gently, but firmly against his formerly broken leg. He was supposed to push back to help strengthen the injured appendage, but there was still a twinge of pain in his knee that made him reluctant to do so. They had been at it for what felt like weeks after Madam Pomfrey had examined his leg and found a weakness in the muscles and tendons that she could not repair by magic. He had a choice of either exercise or surgery at St. Mungo's. The latter option gave him chills, so there they were.  
  
"Push harder, Remus!" Ginny urged him.  
  
"I can't believe we're still doing this." Remus groaned, rolling his eyes and wincing slightly.  
  
"It's your own fault." she told him sternly, perhaps gritting her teeth. "You should never have limped around for _hours_ on a broken leg! It was a bloody stupid thing to do." Ginny said in no uncertain terms. She was not one to be trifled with in her 'mother hen' mode. Remus could see her becoming a woman as formidable as Molly Weasley someday.  
  
"Like mother, like daughter." he thought silently to himself. "How much longer?" Remus asked.  
  
"You know the routine: twice daily for ten minutes each time. So ... another five more minutes, Remus." Ginny told him, knowing that he would probably try to avoid finishing the session.  
  
"Ginny, I think I should have told you this earlier, but I suppose now is as good of a time as any. I spoke to your father before he went home." said Remus rather abruptly.  
  
"Did ... did you tell him about us?" she questioned uncertainly, easing back on the pressure she was applying to Remus' injured limb.  
  
"I asked him for his permission to see you socially."  
  
Ginny remembered Mister Moody's advice that he had given her that night in the Tower and asked, "What did he say?"  
  
Remus chuckled despite the ache in his leg and said, "That if I bit you, he would kill me." At the time the comment had alarmed him, but anti-werewolf prejudice was something that he was accustomed to.  
  
"Anything else?" asked Ginny, feeling momentarily guilty.  
  
"That I should consider what would happen to my career if I ... got you into any trouble. I assured him that that would definitely not happen. Then he gave him permission. I don't think he was very happy about it, but he didn't try to hex or jinx me, and I will take that as a good sign."  
  
"No, that sort of thing is mum's department. Dad would have just punched you or something." said Ginny, who had seen her father get into at least one fist fight in her life. "Did you tell her?" she questioned, biting her lower lip in anxiety.  
  
"No, your father strongly advised against it."  
  
"Time's up." she said, releasing his leg. Remus gave her a grateful look and rested it on the floor. "I think I shall certainly be getting a lecture when I step off the train." she sighed, gesturing toward the couch.  
  
Remus climbed wearily from the floor and onto the couch.  
  
"I imagine so." he agreed, lying on his stomach and closing his eyes. "But I thought it was the right thing to do."  
  
"It probably was." she sighed reluctantly.  
  
This was the part that made the rest of it worth it. He smiled softly as Ginny knelt next to the couch and began kneading his shoulders. Remus heaved a sigh of contentment as she worked her magic.  
  
He was so surprised by how quickly their lives had begun to return to that pleasant state in which they had existed between their sojourn among the demons and the terrible battle. Ginny had told him everything that had happened, everything that she had witnessed that long night. Facing the dementors of Azkaban, running away from the giant, being caught too near a blasting curse, holding Alastor Moody's hand when he died, and then taking his body back to the castle. It was a lot for young woman to see and experience. That evening, three days after the actual events, Remus had held her in his arms as she wept. To the best of his knowledge it was the first time she had done so. But Ginny had recovered from the shock and the horror, and for the Remus was extremely grateful.  
  
"Can I come visit you this summer?" asked Ginny as she gently massaged his back.  
  
Remus opened one eye and said, "If your parents will allow it."  
  
"Summer isn't that long ..." she began to say with a soft rattling sigh. "But I'm going to miss you so much."  
  
"We can write to each other." he suggested.  
  
Ginny brightened and leaned down to kiss his forehead, saying, "Of course we can!"  
  
As she combed her fingers through his graying hair, Remus' heart began to beat faster. He would miss _her_ so much! Especially after the full moon. He would miss her comforting presence. He would miss looking into her eyes and knowing that there was one person who could love him in spite of his curse. His heart ached as he realized how lonely he would be without her.  
  
Ginny saw the change in his expression and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against his.  
  
"It won't be so bad." she whispered. "Just think of how much we have to look forward to."  
  
  
Very late that night ...  
  
  
The sound of urgent tapping on the window awakened Professor Dumbledore. He recognized the noise as that of a delivery owl rapping upon the window with its beak. Albus grabbed his wand and glasses from the table by the bed and dashed the to let the owl inside. He could telling immediately that it was a Ministry owl.  
  
"What is it, Albus?" asked Minerva sleepily from the bed as a cool gust of air blew into the bedroom.  
  
Dumbledore lit a few candles with his wand before removing the letter from the leg of the delivery bird, which then flew out the window again, possibly to the Owlery. He knew that would not be pleasant news. That could have waited until the scheduled morning delivery. Bad news simply would not wait.  
  
Minerva climbed from bed and wrapped her tartan dressing gown around her shoulders before joining her husband at the window. She closed it to keep out the cold while he read what appeared to be a lengthy letter.  
  
"Albus?" she questioned, placing a hand on his arm.  
  
"It seems that the former Minister of Magic had been keeping a few things from us." said Dumbledore absently.  
  
"Such as?" she questioned warily, watching his face take on a somber and worried expression.  
  
"There were two empty cells in Azkaban after the dementors left. The people who had occupied them ... They had obviously been freed." he told her.  
  
Minerva shivered and said, "Surely you can't mean ..."  
  
"Yes, Taliesin and Lilith Lestrange." Dumbledore told her somberly.  
  
"But why? Surely they have been insane for sometime now. Why would Voldemort have ordered the dementors to free them?" asked Minerva.  
  
"The answer to that question may have died with him." said Albus, putting his arm around her and looking up from the letter. "But there is more." he said seriously.  
  
"More?" she questioned.  
  
"When the Ministry Aurors identified all of the dead or captured Death Eaters and supporters of Voldemort, they neglected to mention that certain individuals were not found, that a number, a small number, of them had escaped, possibly during the last hour of the battle when our full attention was turning toward the rampaging giants." he said, shaking his head.  
  
"How many?" asked Minerva, placing one hand over her mouth in shock.  
  
"Insofar as the Ministry knows, Willard Avery and Eldred Wilkes, the younger of the Wilkes brothers, but they suspect that there are others who were not on the list that Severus provided the Ministry, secret operatives from within the Ministry itself, whose names were only known to the Dark Lord alone." said Albus.  
  
"Then the days of peace ..."  
  
"They may have to wait, Minerva. There is still work to be done it seems." he told her, folding up the letter and looking at her with a troubled gaze.  
  
  
The End  
  
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A/N: First things first: is there a sequel? I left the ending open for a reason, so not yet, but there might be later. I have the plot, but when I try to write, it sucks. I hate when that happens. I'm also working on other stories ... But to everyone who has asked, thanks! It's always encouraging. I had so much stuff I wanted to say at the end of this, but I can't remember any of it.  
  
  
Jasmine Black: I have a huge, insane grudge against Fudge. I think I'm finally getting it out of my system. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Sammy: Wow. That's a lot of reading. I'm glad you enjoyed the stories. Thanks for the review!  
  
Lady Death: I can't stand Fudge. And I know. I am very mean. Thank you for the review!  
  
Amethyst: That was supposed to come up again, but it never did, but I think if I ever write that sequel ... it will come out somehow. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Minerva of Tortall: I'm not good with the extra-fluffy stuff. And, yes, this is the end. Thanks for the review!  
  
Zaeria: I thought it was fitting. I see the Ministry in the book-era as being a huge, bureaucratic hinderance. *shrugs* Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Dixiehnsnluver: Expecting anything less from the Ministry? Thanks for reviewing!  
  
LinZE: "Voyager"? *twitch* I never made it through a whole episode. Sorry. Thank you for the review!  
  
Pidgie: Thanks!  
  
GEM: Glad you like those pairings. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
Lily of the Shadow: Bitter-sweet ... I'm really into that. Thanks for the review!  
  
ElvenEnchantress: Thank you!  
  
Static Wolf: I am trying to write a sequel, but that isn't going so well. But thanks for asking and for reviewing!  
  
Laura: I'm glad I made you smile. Thank you for reviewing!  
  
  
And to everyone who reviews later, thank you very much!  
  
  



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